Murphy's Other Law
by otherhawk
Summary: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Anything that can't possibly go wrong, will go wrong in St Louis
1. The set up

**Usual disclaimer - I own nothing to do with Ocean's 11**

**This is another multi-chapter fic. Yes, another one. I know, I know, people are still waiting for me to finish the last one. InSilva said it was a good idea. Therefore any delays for new chapters of 'Dominoes' can be legitimately blamed on her. Oh, I'm liking this plan!**

**Anyway, it's set some considerable time before the first movie.**

* * *

Danny and Tess were kissing in front of the refrigerator, and it honestly hadn't been his intention to disturb them. But when the door shut behind him, they sprang apart and Danny grinned at him. "We all set?"

Tess glared. Which Rusty thought was a little unfair. It was, after all, still his kitchen too. On the other hand, Danny had been a little worried last night, about how she'd respond to this whole 'last minute business trip' idea. Evidently a little better than they'd anticipated, but he could still fully understand how she wasn't exactly happy about being interrupted. "Good morning, Rusty," she said through clenched teeth.

He smiled at her and affected not to notice. "Morning, Tess." To Danny he nodded. "I'm done."

While Danny had spent the night saying his goodbyes, Rusty had collated, memorised and finally destroyed every available scrap of information in the public domain about Alexander Cabot Northridge. And that had been a disappointment. If he had thought about it at all, Rusty would have assumed that billionaire corporate heads were probably leading . . . well, maybe not more exciting lives than _him_, but certainly he wouldn't have thought that they spent their evenings growing orchids and polishing their collection of bronze figurines. Their very expensive collection of bronze figurines. Their collection of bronze figurines that _someone_ was willing to pay a lot of money to own. Unfortunately, Danny and Rusty had no idea who, and that wasn't the way they'd normally operate. But the job had come through Kenny, who was reliable and currently desperate - the anonymous client was working on a very tight deadline - and Danny liked the idea of Kenny owing them a favour. Anyway, the job was lucrative and there'd been money up front. A lot of money. And the idea of a trip away from the city with Danny appealed to him right now. Hopefully it would remind him that some things wouldn't change no matter what.

Danny was eying him critically. "Did you get any sleep?"

He shrugged. "I'll sleep on the plane." One night. It wasn't a big deal.

Tess' expression softened. "Danny mentioned that you were getting all the details sorted out so that we could . . . " she trailed off awkwardly.

"Say goodbye?" Rusty supplied helpfully.

She nodded. "Thank you, Rusty," she said sincerely.

Rusty grinned. "Danny, we really need to leave." It was still three hours till their flight, but by the time they drove to the airport and went to the little place on the concourse that sold the most _amazing_ waffles, it would be time. "You all packed?"

"Of course," Danny looked offended.

Rusty looked doubtful. "Even – "

" – everything we could possibly – "

" – how about – "

" – Yes! And why is my wardrobe suddenly the one under scrutiny?" Danny demanded.

"Pre-emptive strike," Rusty answered immediately, and Danny sighed.

Tess interrupted hastily. "You never said. What's this trip about?"

Rusty stayed silent. As far as possible he tried to let Danny supply the details on the slightly gargantuan lie that Tess' arrival in their lives as an apparently permanent fixture had locked them into. It was easier that way. Less room for mistakes. Of course, there were problems with that approach . . .

Danny smiled easily. "Oh, we need to go down and negotiate the co-efficient merger between two satellite companies that are being awkward. If we can get them to cooperate, it'll put us in a really strong position for next April, when we try to develop our share of the futures market across the Midwest."

Tess blinked. "And that will take . . . ?"

"Couple of weeks?" Danny shrugged. "At most."

Her smile wavered slightly. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll wait downstairs," Rusty said quickly. Neither of them seemed to notice.

* * *

He'd been waiting in the car for fifteen minutes before they finally appeared on the steps, and he spent another five minutes resolutely looking in the other direction and considering the best ways of acquiring the plans, before Tess finally walked off and Danny slid into the car next to him, smiling contentedly. He didn't apologise and Rusty didn't ask him to.

"You said it again," he pointed out instead.

Danny looked sheepish. "Co-efficient?"

Rusty nodded and drove off. "Eventually she's going to realise that you don't know what it means."

He grinned when Danny sighed.

* * *

Rusty had insisted on eating his waffles all the way through the security checks and on to the plane, and Danny had watched, amused, as various members of staff rushed up, presumably intent on asking him to stop, and encountered an impenetrable wall of charm and sexuality that had not only left Rusty in happy possession of his food, but had also got them bumped up from business class to first.

They were therefore relaxing comfortably in the completely deserted first class section, when the stewardess brought them their drinks and smiled warmly. "You need anything else, you just ask for Carla, okay?" Her gaze lingered on Rusty, and Danny bit the inside of his cheek. "Anything at all."

"Thank you, Carla." Rusty grinned appreciatively.

Danny waited until she'd sashayed off before leaning over. "Don't even think about it," he threatened in a low voice.

Rusty radiated a field of extreme innocence that Danny wouldn't believe in a million years. "What?"

"You know what," Danny warned.

Grinning, Rusty gave up. "Once. One time that happened, and it wasn't with the stewardess anyway."

"Right." Danny nodded and gave it a second. "It was with the pilot."

Rusty laughed. "It was _not_. Her name was Trisha, and if you'll remember we met in the departure lounge. I even saw her for a few months after."

"And that makes it perfectly respectable," Danny agreed sarcastically.

"You should try everything once," Rusty claimed sanctimoniously. Then he frowned. "Though why anyone would try it more than once I have no idea. The sink makes it all very difficult."

Danny had something else on his mind. "Trisha . . . wasn't she the one who used to get you to break into all sorts of places, so you could – "

" – uh huh," Rusty agreed with a fond smile. "Nice girl."

"Huh," Danny considered. "Well, I suppose – "

" – comparatively," Rusty nodded and for a while they watched the movie in companionable silence while Rusty ate first his peanuts, then Danny's.

But Danny was watching carefully, and the moment Rusty got that distant look in his eyes, he stepped in. "What?"

Rusty blinked, then shrugged. "Oh, just thinking about – "

" – Liar," Danny interrupted, a little insulted. "You're not thinking about the job.

"No," Rusty conceded after a moment. But he didn't elaborate.

This had been going on long enough. For three weeks now, something had been eating away at Rusty. Something about _them. _And that was almost unheard of. Danny sighed in frustration. "Tell me," he said quietly.

For a long moment, Rusty looked at him. Then he blinked and looked away. "I'm thinking of looking for a place on my own when we get back."

At first, Danny just stared at him. It was all he could do, and the words 'You're breaking up with me?' hovered somewhere near his lips.

Rusty shot him a sardonic look. "I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Thanks." Danny tried to collect his thoughts. "Why?" he demanded and frowned. "And if the next words out of your mouth are it's not – "

" – Oh, it's you," Rusty assured him.

Desperately he protested, "Whatever I've done, I'll – "

" – Danny," Rusty interrupted him quickly, patiently and apologetically. "That's not what I meant."

And he'd known that. Really, he had. If he'd somehow managed to offend Rusty, properly, for the first and last time, Rusty still wouldn't let them end like this. "What then?"

"Nothing's ending," Rusty said, with a shrug. "It's just . . . tell me that you're not thinking about moving in with Tess."

Oh. It had crossed his mind. And he knew it had done more than simply cross hers. But he hadn't thought it through this far. "I don't – " he protested.

" – she spends more time at our place than she does at hers," Rusty pointed out.

"That's just because – "

" – you're afraid of her roommate's cat," Rusty nodded understandingly.

And that wasn't exactly true, and Danny couldn't let that slide. "You haven't seen the thing. It's half tiger and half demon."

Rusty pursed his lips. "Sounds like a cat to me."

Danny grinned, but he wasn't going to be so easily deflected. "You sure about this?"

Rusty shrugged and shook his head.

Danny nodded and wondered. They'd been living together forever now. Practically since they'd first met. It was easy. It was practical. It was fun. And it felt safe, and he wasn't sure that he was really ready to give all that up.

"Maybe that's another reason," Rusty said quietly.

He'd need to think about this. They both would.

* * *

They paused under the large sign. _Welcome to St Louis._

"Remember the last time we were here?" Rusty asked.

Danny nodded, and his eyes darkened for a second. "Just about."

"Let's not do that again," Rusty suggested lightly.

"Lightning never strikes the same place twice," Danny pointed out hopefully.

Rusty frowned. "Then what's the point of lightning rods?"

* * *

The first thing that hit them as they got their first proper look at the copies of the plans of Alexander Cabot Northridge's mansion was that this was going to be fun. And by 'fun' they meant insanely difficult.

"Damn," Danny exhaled slowly.

Right. Rusty nodded in agreement. "More than a two man job."

"Uh huh." Danny mused. "Timing – "

" – we need a driver," Rusty nodded. Without, they'd be cutting it far too fine.

"Someone who can handle the preliminaries," Danny agreed, tracing a finger along the lines of the second floor balcony with an enquiring frown.

Rusty shook his head. Not enough clearance and too exposed besides. "How about Kieran," he suggested.

Danny blinked. "Kieran Felipe?" he asked incredulously.

"No," Rusty shook his head in disbelief. "Kieran Webb."

"Right," Danny relaxed.

Not that Rusty was going to let it go that easily. "What, you think this job needs a pastry chef?"

Danny glared. "I was confused."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed.

"I mean, we've not worked with Kieran Webb since . . . "

"Detroit," Rusty supplied immediately. "Two years ago. The Warhol thing."

"Right," Danny leaned back. "That was – "

" – good times." They shared a grin and Danny poured them both a drink while Rusty took a handful of corn chips.

"So, Kieran," Danny said thoughtfully.

"And he can help us get the cases into the house," Rusty added. No way were they breaking in without the means of transporting the figurines already firmly in place.

"What are you thinking?" Danny asked.

"'House and Garden'" Rusty said with a grin.

Danny sighed. "You just want to see me – "

" – if you'd rather be the photographer..." Rusty threatened, and Danny shook his head quickly.

"I'll leave that to you," he said firmly.

Rusty grinned wider, and then he looked back down at the plans. "How about the alarm system?"

"Elaborate," Danny grimaced.

No kidding. The last time they'd seen something this complex had been that special exhibit at the Guggenheim. "Can't do it on site," he said, finally.

Danny groaned sifted through the papers spread out around their feet, and came up with the security details. He read for a second before he blinked, grinned and passed it over.

Rusty saw what Danny had noticed almost immediately. Every house in the gated community used the same system. And it was all controlled by the same office. The same highly secure office. "Perfect," he grinned.

Danny smiled back. "Going to need – "

" – munitions," Rusty nodded. "Who – "

" – Phil Turrentine," Danny suggested, but Rusty was already shaking his head. Danny frowned. "Why?"

"It's their anniversary next month," Rusty explained.

Danny looked puzzled. "Okay?" he shrugged, and reached for his drink.

Rusty waited until just the right moment, before he casually added "Eleanor says all explosions are to be confined to the bedroom for the forseeable future." He grinned when Danny choked. "How about Eddie Delaney?"

Danny nodded, wiping his mouth, then he frowned.

"What?" Rusty asked.

"What's his way in?" Good question. They'd be otherwise occupied.

He sighed. "We need someone else," he conceded. "For the inside."

"Preferably someone who can go in a few days beforehand," Danny suggested, and that would make it easier. And less suspicious.

They looked at each other for a long moment. "Saul?"

"Saul," Danny agreed.

"He might be busy," Rusty warned. The last time they'd spoken, Saul had been in the middle of an Anchorman's Gambit, and he'd had something lined up with Bobby for immediately afterwards.

Danny shrugged. "He's never too busy to talk to you," he pointed out, and Rusty conceded.

He pulled the plans closer to him. The only thing left was to figure out how they were getting in, and even more importantly, how they were getting out. He sighed. "We're going to need – "

Danny was already reaching for the phone. " – pizza," he agreed.

"Read my mind," Rusty said lightly. Danny smiled at him, and he knew that neither of them wanted to lose this. Ever.

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that. More will follow, hopefully very soon. In the meantime, please let me know what you think.**


	2. Countdown

**Ha! Two chapters in as many days. Hands up anyone who thinks this is gonna last . . . well, it's not. Sorry.**

**

* * *

**

_S minus 5 days . . . _

Rusty perched on the counter, just behind Danny, and sucked at a Tootsie pop and watched the room.

This was the first time the five of them had got together, but they all knew each other already, and had worked together in varying combinations. There'd be no unexpected personality clashes, and that was always something to be thankful for.

Kieran Webb. Blond, mid thirties and in a seemingly permanent good mood. Rusty didn't think they'd need much to win him over. If anything. He was loyal and undemanding and liked it when things went smoothly and ended in money. And Rusty knew he trusted them to deliver.

Eddie Delaney was a slightly different matter. Dark, wiry and a little twitchy, he liked his jobs both precise and varied. And he was very good at what he did. Unfortunately he couldn't tell a lie to save his life. That's why they needed Saul.

And Saul would almost certainly automatically be in. Because Saul had never turned them down before, and they didn't need to offer money, and they didn't need to offer excitement. They just needed to promise that they weren't being stupid.

"Okay gentlemen, we all know why we're here," Danny began.

"Right," Kieran spoke up, with a lazy smile. "You've got something good."

Rusty grinned. "Of course. Don't we always?" And that was one.

"The mark," Danny went on with a smirk in his voice, just for Rusty, "Is Alexander Northridge - "

" - Alexander _Cabot_ Northridge – " Rusty expanded.

" – joint owner of Zuultech."

Eddie frowned. "The arms company?" he asked, cautiously.

Rusty winced internally when he saw Saul's eyes narrow at that and he could almost hear the discussion on what made a safe mark. "The company isn't the target," he said firmly, taking the Tootsie pop out of his mouth. "Strictly private." Saul stared at him for a long, long moment, and he offered confidence and reassurance until Saul nodded, satisfied.

"Right," Danny agreed. "He has a collection of bronze statuettes."

"Ugly bronze statuettes," Rusty contributed, between sucks.

"Expensive ugly bronze statuettes," Danny expanded further, "And Kenny has a buyer willing to pay five million."

Kieran beamed. Eddie looked mildly interested for the first time. Saul's expression didn't change. They'd need more than mere money for that.

"Now, the statuettes are kept in a special collection room in the middle of the third floor of Northridge's house." Danny indicated the point on the plans.

"It's more of a mansion, really," Rusty remarked. He watched carefully as Saul looked over the plans and so he was able to catch the slight expression of approval and intrigue. Two, and with no visible sign, Danny smiled back at him.

"Me and Rusty are going after the statuettes," Danny continued. "Kieran will be waiting in the car _here_." He pointed on the map. "Now, not only is the mansion set in the middle of a gated community with more private security than you can shake a stick at, it also has one of the most elaborate security systems we've ever seen."

And they'd seen a lot. Rusty watched as Eddie's eyes narrowed. Simple deduction, really. "You going to break it?"

Danny shook his head. "We want it gone."

"It's controlled centrally," Rusty said, reaching behind him for the specs and passing them over. "Aembic Security Systems." Eddie frowned at them for a long moment.

"Saul, you're Eddie's way in," Danny said, and Saul nodded. "Clean Sweep, we thought. Me and Rus' will set it up the night before. We met a nice man named Rolf, who was perfectly willing to give us his system access codes in exchange for money."

"A lot of money," Rusty added. Still, if they could get Saul accepted as a member of staff, it was more than worth it.

Eddie blinked absently, looked up from the specs, and turned to Saul. "While you're there, can you get me some current pictures of the set up?"

And three. Rusty relaxed, and felt Danny do the same.

They were on.

* * *

_S minus 3 days . . ._

They'd been sitting in the deserted office at Aembic for over two hours now, and Danny could tell that Rusty was getting bored. Just because Rusty hadn't actually moved in all that time didn't mean he didn't know that. Still, they had to wait until the last of the admin staff was out of the building.

Danny himself had been thinking. "I do want to live with her," he admitted suddenly.

"Uh huh," Rusty continued to stare at the opposite wall.

"But I was thinking – "

Rusty grimaced. " – not a good – "

Danny ignored him. " – just because I want her to move in – "

" – Danny – " Rusty protested.

" - doesn't mean I want you to move out," he finished determinedly.

There was a long pause. "That's got to be the worst plan you've ever thought of," Rusty said finally.

Danny blinked. "Worse than – "

" – no, Krista and Trista were worse," Rusty conceded.

Danny relaxed. "Well, you see – "

" – as was that thing in Vegas, actually. With the ostrich feathers and the – "

" – that worked!" Danny protested. Because it had. Not exactly as intended, but nonetheless there had definitely been a success there.

"Really? Because I don't remember it getting us any closer to Grigor."

Okay. Not _that _success. "True," he admitted. "But it did teach you that I mean it when – "

" – it was four hours – " Rusty objected.

" – I tell you to get more than two hours sleep in ninety six," he said firmly.

Rusty paused. "Reuben saw."

"Oh. Yes." Danny remembered with a shudder. "You win." Not a success. "Did we ever apologise?"

"He never stopped laughing long enough for us to try," Rusty said shrugging.

Danny nodded and there was a long silence. "It could work," he said, quietly.

"No. It couldn't," Rusty told him, equally serious.

"You like Tess, Tess likes you, you know how I feel about both of you, so why can't we - "

Rusty interrupted hastily. " – Are you sure you know where this sentence is going?"

Danny blinked. "I _thought_ I did." He sighed. "I don't want to lose – "

" – you're not going to lose anything," Rusty told him, and Danny warmed a little at the fierceness in his voice. "Neither of us are."

"But . . . " He trailed off. Because how could he explain how comforting it was, knowing that Rusty was safe in the next room? How could he explain that he still wanted the talking and the movies and the silence and the chocolate and the whisky? How could he explain how he needed to know that when he woke up in the middle of the night there would be warmth and understanding and love and timelessness?

Rusty was looking at him, and his eyes were open, and his smile was unguarded, and he reflected Danny in all things, and of course he'd never needed to explain anything. "Yes," he said simply. "Always."

"Then why not?" he asked. Surely it was worth a try.

Rusty sighed. "You honestly think Tess would be happy with that little arrangement?"

She wouldn't. Of course she wouldn't. Because she'd know damn well that if they started that way, Danny would never, ever want to give it up. "That's not the only thing that matters," he pointed out desperately.

"But it's not completely irrelevant, either," Rusty answered, and Danny wished he wasn't right.

He stifled a groan, and watched the light go out in the office opposite. "Come on. Let's get to work."

* * *

_S minus 2 days . . . _

It was Saul who paused outside the headquarters of Aembic Security Systems and took a deep breath, but it was Michael Hatcher who strode through the doors and slammed an ID badge down in front of the startled receptionist. "Get me Steven Aitken. Now."

The man was still blinking at the ID, "Uh, of course, Mr Hatcher," He hastily dialled a number and Saul watched the whispered conversation impassively. "Um, Mr Aitken isn't actually in the office today . . . " Saul knew that. He'd been unexpectedly sent, at the last possible minute, to a conference in Jefferson City. "His deputy, Mr Prince is available, if that's all right?"

Saul scowled. "It will have to do."

He hovered, disgruntled, around the reception area for ten minutes, while the receptionist offered him a seat, a coffee, a glass of water, or, in fact, anything he desired. It was something of a relief when Mr Prince finally appeared and ushered him into an empty meeting room. "Mr . . . Hatcher, am I right?"

Saul nodded. "Mr Prince, I presume."

"Yes, that's right. And you're from head office? I must say, we weren't expecting an inspection."

"That's why they're called surprise inspections," Saul said patiently. "I'm here to get an overall understanding of the way you're running this outfit, taking a broad view of both your financial and technical position."

"Oh, good." The man smiled nervously. "I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

Saul paused just long enough for it to be uncomfortable. "I'm sure," he agreed politely. "I expect to be here until the end of next week, assuming I discover nothing untoward, and I'll start going through your financial records from Monday." That would keep them busy for a bit, hiding all the irregularities. "In the meantime it is my intention to observe, and conceivably bring in other experts. I understand you're a twenty four hour operation?"

"That's right." There was actually pride in the man's voice. Distantly, Saul approved. It was good to be happy in your work.

"Well, I intend to observe as many shifts as possible over the next few days. Naturally I can't tell you exactly when, but I'm certainly not asking you to make any special arrangements."

Mr Prince nodded. "I understand. Let me first of all give you a tour of our facility." He moved to the door.

"Stop," Saul barked, and the poor man froze. "Mr Prince, are you seriously planning on showing a complete stranger around these facilities without checking his identity?"

"Ah, well, that is . . . " He swallowed. "You gave your ID to Tim at the desk, didn't you?"

"Certainly. But such things can be easily faked." Actually, it hadn't been that easy. "You should always check with head office."

"Right." Prince bobbed his head. "Well, I think in this case, we can make an exception, though I'll certainly bear it in mind for the future."

Saul was going to let him off that easily. "No exceptions," he insisted.

"Okay," Prince agreed wearily, and he walked out to the reception desk and started looking up the number. "Now, let's see, that would be . . . "

"Andrew Kerrigan," Saul prompted helpfully.

"Kerrigan, Kerrigan . . . ah, yes. Of course."

Saul watched as Prince dialled the number that would put him straight through to Rusty. And he wished him joy of the experience.

* * *

_S minus 28 hours . . . _

Rusty stepped out of the bathroom, towelling vigorously at his hair and stopped on seeing Danny, lying on his bed, talking on his phone.

" . . . no, it's just Rusty, I'm in his room," Danny looked round and blinked on seeing rather more of Rusty than he was probably expecting. Then he grinned. "Yeah, I'll tell him." He covered the mouthpiece. "Tess says hi. And she'd like it if you put more clothes on."

"She doesn't want you looking at me naked, you should speak to her in your room," Rusty retorted. But he went looking for a bathrobe anyway.

Danny grinned some more. "He says hi back, Tess. . . . Nah, it's all going well. Easier than we'd thought." He reached behind him and threw Rusty the room service menu and the TV listings. Rusty adjusted the bathrobe to at least give him the appearance of decency, and set about finding them something good from each, and did his best to tune out the sound of Danny's voice. Not something that was ever really going to happen for him. "No, we'll be back in a few days. Monday, probably . . . yes . . . . yes, I miss you too." Rusty grinned, shook his head and called for room service. Danny scowled at him. "Well, why don't you tell Renee . . . no . . . no, I guess you're right. Okay. Take care of yourself . . . yes, I will, I promise. . . . Love you . . . bye now, Tess." He hung up the phone and turned to Rusty. "Find anything?"

"Lasagne and 'Ghostbusters'?" Rusty suggested.

"Sounds good," Danny agreed happily.

With a grin, Rusty bounced onto the bed and stretched out alongside Danny, sighing contentedly.

"You're getting the pillows damp," Danny complained.

Rusty shrugged. "They're my pillows," he pointed out.

"What else did you order?" Danny asked, after a moment.

"What do you – " Rusty began, and Danny shook his head at him in mock reproach.

"Two pages of dessert and junk and you expect me to believe that you only ordered lasagne?"

Rusty smiled. "Might have added a bowl of fries."

"Uh huh." Danny nodded.

"The curly ones. A large bowl." His mouth was watering at the thought. "A very large bowl."

There was amusement in Danny's voice. "What else?"

"Banana split. And a Tiramisu." He turned his head to face Danny. "You can pick," he offered generously.

Danny smiled, inches away. "Half and half," he said firmly.

"Done," Rusty agreed at once. "How's Tess?" he added, casually.

"She's fine." Danny paused. "Renee's driving her nuts again. She's looking for a new job."

"Right," Rusty nodded.

"I miss her," Danny admitted quietly, and he turned to stare up at the ceiling.

Rusty didn't say anything.

"Isn't that stupid?" Danny went on, shaking his head. "I mean, it's only been ten days, and it's not like I've had time to sit and brood. But it's like – I keep thinking of all these little things I want to say to her, you know? Just little things that would make her laugh." He sighed. "I've never felt this way before."

Rusty smiled, and kept quiet, and felt just a slightest, slightest, touch of envy. He'd never felt anything even approaching that before. (_Unless he counted the thing that didn't count. Then, maybe, oh, so much more.)_

Danny sighed again. "Sometimes I wonder if I should tell her the truth, you know? But what would I do if – "

" – you can't have your cake and eat it?" Rusty asked quietly.

"I don't know." Danny shook his head.

The food arrived and the movie started, and while Bill Murray investigated Sigourney Weaver's fridge, Danny quietly asked "What would you do?"

Rusty considered. "We can always get more cake." Because there'd always be a _them_ to get it.

Danny nodded. "That's what I thought."

* * *

_S minus 12 hours . . . _

"Oh, I'm just in _love_ with the lighting in this room," Rusty enthused to Jeremy, Northridge's bemused publicist. "See the way that it _strokes_ over the contours of these columns here, and the way it _teases _aside the long shadows and just _surges_ over the centre and creates such an exquisite impression of heat and sensation. The heart of the room, you might say." He giggled. "And these mirrors! So clever! Oh, I can see Denevue's hand all over this room. He's such a _wonderful _designer, don't you think? And so naughty!"

Jeremy's eyes were beginning to glaze over. But that was only partly because of Rusty. Mostly it was because he hadn't taken his eyes off Danny since he'd opened the door. Danny. In jeans and a black turtleneck. Doing manual labour. Rusty loved his job.

"And the view!" He danced over to the window, and though it was a million miles from being visible, he could feel Danny's amusement. "Oh, it's just to _die _for. Colin! Dear!" He called Danny over, and, to Jeremy's obvious delight, Danny abandoned the crates and joined them. "We're going to set up in this room, all right? Unpack the cameras."

"Of course, Emile," Danny agreed.

"Now," Rusty turned back to Jeremy. "What I'm going to do is set up the cameras and leave them here overnight with the timer running. I want our readers to experience the full range of light, do you understand?"

Jeremy was too busy watching Danny walk away. Rusty smiled slightly. Must be a fan of Levis.

* * *

_S minus 1 hour . . . _

Kieran waited until Danny and Rusty were out of sight before he turned the radio on and started singing along to Johnny Mathis. There was nothing to do but wait. Might as well have some fun while he did.

* * *

_S minus 30 minutes . . . _

Saul nodded sharply to the night watchman as he and Eddie walked out of the Aembic office for the last time. Everything had gone off without a hitch. Fifteen minutes and Eddie's little package went boom, and the system went dark.

* * *

_S minus 15 minutes . . . _

They waited, at the bottom of the wall, sitting shoulder to shoulder, until their watches showed three o'clock precisely. Then, with a shared grin, invisible in the dark even without the masks, they scaled the wall and headed directly for the house.

* * *

_S minus 5 minutes . . . _

Getting into the house had been exactly as easy as it looked, thanks to the window with the view to die for that he'd wedged earlier, and the ostentatious decoration of those columns. Rusty smiled. Something to thank pretentious architecture for.

It was when they were at the top of the stairs, just outside the Collection Room, that he thought he saw . . . something. Movement. He froze, and Danny, a step behind him and carrying the case, stopped immediately. For a long moment they stood there, not moving, not breathing, but he couldn't see anything, peering into the dim light, and he couldn't hear anything. Slowly, he turned his head, but Danny was exuding a bewildered question. Must have been a shadow. His imagination getting away with him. He shrugged and opened the door.

As soon as he heard Danny close it behind him, he headed for the far wall and the display cases, leaving Danny to find the light switch. There were no windows in this room. No need to struggle by flashlight.

Gradually he realised that there was something wrong with the floor under his feet. It felt . . . sticky. Suddenly he put his foot on something that definitely wasn't carpet, and he tripped and fell to his knees.

For what seemed like eternity he knelt there. Because he'd stood on something soft, and squishy and giving. Something that should have felt alive. And his thinly-gloved hand was in something warm and moist. He could taste the bile at the back of his throat, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the flashlight and he turned it on with trembling fingers, and it shone on a man's face, inches from his own. And that wasn't right. The man wasn't right. Because he was pale, and his eyes were wide and staring and there was a hole in the middle of his forehead and the back of his head was missing, and then Rusty looked down at his own hands and he wanted to scream and never, ever stop.

* * *

_. . . SNAFU_

Danny heard the stumble and the strangled gasp, immediately suppressed, and he heard the muffled thump of the flashlight hitting the floor and rolling away, and with his heart in his mouth he hit the light switch and spun round to see Rusty stumble up and stumble back, staring at his hands and staring down at the . . . _oh_. Fuck.

Alexander Cabot Northridge was very, very dead.

"I've got him on my hands," Rusty said, numbly, and for once Danny couldn't think of a single thing to say.

And then he heard the sirens.

* * *

**And I'd be willing to bet that no-one saw that coming. Least I hope you didn't. So, what do you think?**


	3. Fall back

**A/N: It has been almost two years since the story was updated. And this story is therefore dedicated to everyone who has refrained from mocking me over this..._geographically_ slow update rate. That's right, mate. This story is hereby dedicated to everyone _except _you.  
**

**A/N2: I was going to post this story tomorrow, but InSilva was insistent that she wanted to read the previous A/N tonight.**

**A/N3: So! Been a while. Plot synopsis... Danny and Rusty are hired by an anonymous client through a friend of theirs named Kenny to steal a collection of bronze statuettes from an arms dealer named Alexander Cabot Northridge. In the meantime, Rusty is thinking about moving out of his and Danny's apartment so Danny can move in with Tess. Danny isn't quite so sure. They realise they need more people and contact Saul, a munitions guy named Eddie Delaney and a driver named Kieran Webb. Saul and Eddie take out the offsite security system while Danny and Rusty break into the house. They get as far as the room where the statuettes are kept and, in the dark, Rusty stumbles over the dead body of Alexander Cabot Northridge. Now read on...  
**

* * *

Danny ran over to the window and stared out. A procession of blue lights was screaming up the driveway. Fuck. There was no _time. _They needed to get out of here.

Glancing back, ready to tell Rusty to run and keep running, he swore. Rusty was pulling at his gloves, his eyes blank with shock.

"No," Danny said firmly, closing his own hands round Rusty's wrists. "Gloves stay on."

Rusty stared down at his fingers. "He's on my _hands."_

Hating himself, just a little, Danny kept his face blank and his voice harsh. "We don't have time, Rus'. I need you to get over it fast, because the cops are coming and I don't think we're good enough to explain a corpse away."

Rusty's eyes were on his, and Rusty was listening to him, and a second later Rusty nodded tersely. "Danny, I'm sorry, I - "

" - we don't have time for apologies, either," Danny said lightly, but now he let the concern and the caring and the reassurance show in his eyes, and his hands had moved up to clasp Rusty's shoulders tightly. "We need to get out of here."

"Okay," Rusty nodded again, holding his hands away from his body like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with them. "Upstairs. Music room. Trellis."

Danny nodded and gestured for Rusty to lead the way, and for once it wasn't just about the automatic trust and the knowledge that Rusty could remember and visualise the layout of the house in a way that Danny would never quite manage – no, right now he wanted Rusty to be thinking about anything apart from the corpse they were leaving in the room behind them.

He was taking care of Rusty by forcing Rusty to take care of both of them.

There were voices coming from downstairs, loud angry, frantic voices, and they were spreading out, heading upstairs, coming closer by the second.

A quick exchange of looks, a moment of understanding, and they were sprinting up the stairs, and a second later the light was spilling across the landing they'd just left.

Danny kept moving, expecting at any moment to hear the sound of "There they are!", expecting at any moment to heard gunfire, but there was nothing for a long moment, then a loud cry of "Call an ambulance!"

On the still-silent floor above, Rusty looked back at Danny, a haunted look in his eyes. Yeah. It was far too late for an ambulance. They were both aware of that.

With a grimace, Danny suddenly realised that there were bits of blood and gore down the front of Rusty's clothes. And a second later, he really wished he hadn't noticed, because Rusty saw too with a look of abject horror. Danny reached out instinctively, ready to stop him from reacting, panicking.

"'m okay," Rusty assured him in a low voice. "Just took me by surprise when I fell on him."

Yeah. Danny couldn't exactly blame him for that, and he kept the shudder hidden deep inside.

"The music room, Rus'," he reminded him gently, and the shouting was getting louder from down below.

"_They can't have got far! The body's still warm!" _

Danny could see Rusty's involuntary nod of agreement.

"_Spread out and find them!" _

"This way," Rusty hissed, and they were jogging through dark, deserted hallways.

The upper floor was largely empty, Danny remembered. Unused. No _obvious_ way out. Hopefully that meant they'd have a few minutes before the search came this way.

Rusty abruptly turned into the room at the end of the hallway and Danny followed hot on his heels.

The room was empty. Which was a relief. The way tonight was going a small part of Danny had been expecting to see the cops already waiting for them.

As he closed the door over, Rusty was already crossing to the window, flattening himself against the wall, looking out without being seen.

Danny sighed internally in a moment of silent relief. Rusty, in control and holding himself together. The alternative was too frightening to contemplate.

"Anything?" he hissed.

"Cops are here," Rusty whispered back shortly. "Looks like they're just pulling into the front of the house. Another two minutes and they'll be all over the grounds."

And they were at the back of the house. And two minutes really wasn't long enough to climb down three storeys of trellis, cross six hundred feet of lawn and climb over the back wall.

"Better than being arrested for murder," Rusty pointed out steadily.

Yeah. There was no arguing with that. He hauled the window open and eyed the trellis unhappily. "Think it'll hold our weight?"

Rusty grinned. "You can go first," he offered generously.

* * *

They climbed down quickly and carelessly and Rusty winced with every creak the trellis made. Not just because he was frightened that they were drawing attention. Danny could go first because Rusty really _wasn't _sure that the trellis could hold their weight. He'd done the math way back, when they were looking for a way in, and the margin of error was tight enough that he was trying _really _hard not to breathe. The way he figured it, the one nearer the ground when – if – the whole thing gave way was more likely to walk away unscathed. The trellis hadn't been his first alternate route. Actually, it had come about third joint with the window above the kitchen that took them far too close the the servant's quarters. It wasn't a good plan. Just that it gave them the best chance of not being seen.

The trellis was swaying and every time he moved his hand he could feel the stickiness clinging through the glove.

He tried hard not to think that he was leaving a little trail of Alexander Cabot Northridge everywhere he went.

Somehow, to his complete surprise, they reached the ground in one piece, and they were running across the lawn as fast as they possibly could.

It happened suddenly.

A shout from somewhere behind them, excited but incoherent, and they were lit up like they were in movies, somewhere at the centre of two or three different flashlights.

"Fuck," Danny said, and they were running impossibly faster, zig zagging wildly, and there were shots ringing out, bullets sparking past them, and the flashlights were wavering now as the men holding them tried to run, shoot and keep sight of them, and when they reached the wall they were in blinding darkness, and they were able to jump and scramble and pull each other up and over in perfectly coordinated chaos.

They were still ahead. A little at least. It would take their pursuers time to reach the wall, more time to find the right spot, more time still to go around.

They were still ahead. Long as they kept moving.

"Come on!" he hissed, and Danny was right with him, hurtling down the hill, back to where they'd left Kieran.

There was a chance that Kieran wouldn't be there. A good chance, really that he'd have seen the cops, heard the commotion, got out while the going was good. Hell, that was probably what he should have done, and Rusty braced himself for disappointment.

The car was still there.

"Thank God," Danny muttered beside him, and Rusty supposed that for once he hadn't been the only one playing the worse case scenario.

Kieran looked round at them, wide-eyed, as they scrambled into the back seat. "What the fuck happened?"

"Drive," Danny told him tersely.

Kieran nodded and put his foot down, but he was still watching them in the rearview mirror.

"But what happened?" he said again. "I thought for sure you'd been caught...holy fuck, is that _blood?" _

"'s not mine," Rusty said, and he'd almost rather it was. He pulled his gloves off, shuddering, and stuffed them deep in his pockets. He wanted to drop them onto the floor of the car...hell, he _wanted _to throw them out the window, but keeping the evidence as contained as possible was the only sensible thing to do.

Kieran was still staring.

"Northridge is dead," Danny said simply. "The cops were called before everything kicked off. They were expecting us...we can't head back to the hotel. Head for Westacres instead, okay?"

"Saul," Rusty murmured with sudden urgency. If _they _had been anticipated...

Danny nodded tightly. "You got the phone there?"

Kieran passed it back and Danny quickly dialled a number. "Saul? You okay?" He listened to the answer and shot Rusty a quick, tight smile and Rusty started to breathe again. "It went bad. We're fine, but they're looking. Don't go near the hotel. Meet us at...exactly."

"No sign of anyone following us," Kieran said, as Danny hung up. "Hold on tight guys, we'll be home safe before you know it."

Rusty stared down at the blood and wondered.

* * *

Saul stared at the phone in his hand unhappily before he shoved it back on to the charger on the dashboard.

Everything had gone bad, Danny had said, and Saul was already wondering about how and about what.

"What's going on?" Eddie asked sharply, his face creased with worry.

"It's gone wrong," he said grimly. "We're to meet the at the fall back point."

Eddie nodded, licked his lips nervously, and spun the car one hundred and eighty degrees, throwing Saul back in his seat.

"Eddie!" he exclaimed sharply. "The _last _thing this situation needed was them getting pulled over.

"Did everyone get out okay?" Eddie asked anxiously.

"Danny said so," he replied distantly.

Danny had said so. Danny had reassured him that they were fine and Saul believed him. Up to a point. He thought that Danny would have told him if someone had been hurt. But it had been _Danny _who had phoned him, not Rusty. And it might be a small point but it was enough to have him worried.

He had a feeling today was going to be a very bad day.

* * *

It was always good to have someplace else to run to if things got bad. Somewhere that had no connection with any of them, but had fresh IDs waiting, just in case.

The Westacres Lodge was quiet, clean and absolutely aluxurious. Kieran had got them a room there days ago. Shouldn't be traceable.

And yeah, they had the change of papers there. More importantly, they also had a change of clothes.

Danny wasn't in the least bit surprised when Rusty started stripping off practically before they were through the door.

Kieran, on the other hand, was staring with a mixture of wide-eyed astonishment and apparent awe, as Rusty slipped out of the last inch of clothing and padded into the bathroom. "Woah," Kieran commented.

The bathroom door closed and Kieran was still looking at it.

"Kieran," Danny sighed as he pulled his black jumper off and shrugged a jacket on over his shirt.

"He just..." Kieran shook his head wonderingly. "Guess it really is true what they say about you."

For a moment Danny struggled but in the end he decided that he really was better off not knowing.

He reached into the suitcase and pulled out a fresh change of clothes for Rusty and carried them through to the bathroom as Kieran flicked on the TV. Yeah. They should keep an eye on the local news.

"I'll be as quick as I can," Rusty told him from somewhere in the cloud of steam. "Just if I'm going to think, I need - "

" - I understand," Danny said quickly with what he hoped was a reassuring grimace. He did understand. "Take your time. Be a while before Saul and Eddie get here." And that was when they really need to dig in. Be absolutely at the top of their game. Find a way out of this.

He stepped out of the bathroom, crossed back to where he'd left the suitcase and gazed down, frowning.

Passports. Driving licenses. What they'd need to get out of this godforsaken city.

Might work for the others.

Wasn't going to be so simple for him and Rusty.

* * *

Rusty let the hot water pour over himself, washing away all the invisible traces of the late Alexander Cabot Northridge.

He sighed and rested his hand against the wall, already angry with himself for his little freak-out earlier. Still, least only Danny had really seen. And showing weakness to Danny wasn't a weakness.

Time to start thinking though.

They'd been set up. Had to be.

No way they'd just chanced upon a murder. This had been meticulously planned. The police had been called _before _anyone had found the body. Odds were the plan had been to catch them standing over the body, and that would have been the end of them. Capital crime.

But they _hadn't _been caught, thanks to Danny. Someone had murdered Alexander Cabot Northridge and had set the up, and if they weren't _there _to get arrested then it was all the more likely that the cops would start to look elsewhere. Maybe start to look at the _real _murderer.

Somehow, he doubted that the murderer would appreciate that.

Oh, he'd be coming for them. He'd be making sure that they didn't get away.

This might be easier if he knew who...fuck. He'd seen him when they were heading to the bronze room. He'd seen a shadow and that had been the murderer.

He stepped out of the shower and dried and dressed as quickly as he could, still thinking.

They could run. They could. Trouble was they'd been hired to do this job. Wouldn't be absolutely impossible to trace him and Danny at least. Hell, there was a good chance they'd been being watched all this time. And he and Danny...they'd been seen. Back when they'd been doing the House and Garden, Jeremy the publicist had got a good look at them. Specially Danny.

They couldn't count on the bad guys not knowing exactly who they were. And that meant that safe wasn't going to mean back home. Safe was going to mean new names and a new country for at least a couple of years. Maybe forever.

He suddenly stopped, staring at himself in the mirror.

Oh, hell.

Tess.

Danny wasn't going to want to walk away from Tess, and if he told her now, like this, Rusty thought there was a good chance that they wouldn't see Tess for dust.

'_I've been lying to you since the day we met. I'm a professional thief who's been accused of murder.'_

Oh, Rusty could imagine the look on Tess' face. And he could imagine the look on Danny's face – the dull resignation, the hidden pain.

He wanted to spare Danny that.

Just that right now, he couldn't exactly see how.

Dressed, ready and invulnerable, he stepped out of the bathroom. Saul and Eddie had got there at some point and they were sitting on chairs and the beds, looking grim.

Sounded like Danny was just finishing up filling in the story of the evening. "...So we got over the wall and got to Kieran. That's about it."

"Think we can assume they're looking for us," Rusty added and he smiled calmly and broadcast easy confidence as Danny and Saul both turned subtle, searching looks on him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Eddie moaned. "What the fuck have you got us into?"

"It's not their fault," Kieran said, his brow creased.

Rusty glanced at Danny, and they both disagreed more than a little.

"Well, I'm getting out of here. Right now." Eddie said. "You should all do the same."

Rusty was still looking at Danny. And he could see the resignation and the loss.

He couldn't stand it.

He looked Danny right in the eyes and he silently made the offer.

There was hesitation for a moment,doubt, and Danny didn't want them running that kind of risk for no reason.

But it wasn't no reason and Rusty made the offer again.

Danny smiled.

They weren't going anywhere.

"Think we'll stick around," Rusty said easily.

Saul stared at them for a long moment "Then so will I," he decreed at last.

"It's not your fight," Danny said immediately.

Saul's gaze grew sharper. "I will pretend you did not say that, Daniel."

"It's me and Rusty they'll be looking for," Danny pointed out. "We're the ones who were in the house, we're the ones who were actually _hired _to do the job, we're the ones who were seen. The rest of you should get out of town."

"It's not going to happen," Saul said with a snort.

"Saul - " Rusty said quietly, warningly, and he wanted Saul away and safe.

" - Uh oh," Kieran cut in slowly. "I don't think it's going to happen at all." He was staring at the TV again and it was showing their old hotel, surrounded by cop cars, the police charging through the doors. Almost immediately it cut to a still of Alexander Cabot Northridge."

"Turn it up," Danny said urgently.

"_The police have a positive lead and are closing in on five suspects," _the voiceover informed them seriously. The descriptions that followed were vague but close enough that there was no doubt.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_" Eddie moaned.

Yeah. Looked like none of them were going anywhere.

* * *

**Promise it won't be another two years till the next chapter. And in the meantime, did you like this one? **


	4. Regroup

**A/N: See? The update rate of this story has already increased! Long may this continue! Also, not much happens in this chapter. Sorry.**

* * *

"Alright," Danny said loudly and calmly, a split second before chaos would have rang out. "We're going to need to move quickly if we're going to avoid a whole lot of jail time."

He didn't look round but he was aware of Rusty surreptitiously positioning himself so he was perched on the counter on Danny's right. Easy reach, line of sight and a united front. And even if no one else could be _certain, _Rusty knew that – right at this moment – he had nothing. No plan at all.

"Now," Danny went on. "I think we can assume that the police have a better description that the ones they just gave out. And we _know _they have the names from the hotel."

"Hotel has CCTV," Rusty added, talking to the room at large and mostly to Danny.

"Right," Danny nodded. "So they have pictures."

Rusty shrugged. "Not good ones, but yeah."

"It's almost certainly only a matter of time before they get real names," Danny said slowly.

"Airports will be on alert – " Rusty cut in.

" – road blocks ." Danny nodded.

"Which means – " Rusty began.

"Which _means – " _Danny agreed. "We're stuck in St Louis for the time being."

He caught the slight look out of the corner of his eye. Yeah. Not a new experience for them. And this was so much better than last time because they were together and so much worse than last time because the others were here.

"First step," Danny went on briskly. "Get rid of the evidence. Anything and everything that can link us back to Northridge. Cars too."

He shot Rusty an enquiring look and Rusty nodded. "There's a scrap yard eight miles from here. This time of night, it'll be deserted. Kieran, can you get the other car?" Kieran nodded hesitantly. "Eddie, you're with me."

"Right," Danny said, satisfied. "Saul, we're going to need another couple of rooms here and we're going to need to be sure that the staff aren't suspicious."

Saul nodded. "I'll check on where the cops are too," he said quietly. "See what they've got."

Danny flashed him a smile and he'd been going to ask Rusty to do that when he got back, but he absolutely trusted Saul and the sooner the better.

"What are you going to do?" Kieran asked him suddenly.

"I'm going to find out exactly who our mysterious client is," Danny said easily. Find the client, find the murderer.

Eddie licked his lips. "So that's short term," he said slowly. "What happens after that? How are we going to get out of this?"

Everyone was looking at him and he was aware of Rusty grinning beside him. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked mildly. "We're going to clear our names before anyone even knows what they are." His voice rang clear with absolute and unbreakable confidence, and the tension in the room lifted like magic.

"Nice line," Rusty murmured in his ear as the others started heading for the door. "Got any idea _how?" _

He kept smiling. "I'm open to suggestions," he hissed back.

* * *

There was something a little creepy about junkyards at night, Rusty thought. Or maybe there was just something creepy about them after the fifth time you saw 'Christine'. Still. All the abandoned shells, the creaking metal...was a little like this was where cars went to die.

Either that, of course, or it was just the way that there were so many hiding places that he'd never know _who _might be watching them until it was absolutely too late.

He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets and watched Eddie fuss around with the about-to-be-bonfire.

Getting into the place had been no problem. There was a security guard but he was at the front entrance watching TV and it had been simple to deal with the giant lock on the chained back entrance, and then they were inside and in the clear.

Kieran was getting rid of the first car while Eddie dealt with the smaller evidence. Rusty had been going to deal with the cars, but Kieran's eyes had lit up at the sight of the crane and the compactor and Rusty didn't want to get in the way of anyone's dreams. All the same, he kind of regretted it when Kieran cheered as the car was reduced to a small cube. There was a time and a place for everything.

He sighed and acknowledged grimly to himself that he might still be a little bit out of sorts. Finding Northridge had _not _been the sort of surprise he enjoyed. Wasn't like he knew the man. Wasn't like, with everything he'd uncovered, he'd even have _liked _the man. But he'd been murdered, and the blood had been on Rusty's hands – literally, if not figuratively – and he suddenly realised he wanted to find out what had happened for more reasons than just their own interest.

Oh. Oh, it would be a good idea if Danny didn't find out about this. Somehow, he didn't think that Danny would be amused in the slightest.

There was a delighted whoop and the whirr of the crane and he turned his head to see Kieran getting to work on the second car. Shaking his head, he grinned. Okay, fair enough. Least someone was enjoying himself. Probably when this whole thing went further to hell, Kieran could go to jail happy.

"We about done?" he asked Eddie casually.

Eddie looked up at him and nodded. "Almost," he agreed. "I've just got to lay a fuse." He carefully sprinkled a trail of powder away from the pile. "Okay. That should be far enough. Just...don't look directly at it, okay?"

Obediently, Rusty turned his head and a second later there was an exceedingly bright white flash, and when he looked back there was nothing left of the security passes or the bloodstained clothes but a pile of fine ash.

"Nice," he said approvingly. "Better sweep these out." Maybe no one would be able to trace anything from them but a random pile of ashes could look suspicious.

He and Eddie set to work silently and after a few moments Kieran joined them.

"Rusty?" Eddie said suddenly, just as they were finishing up and he was considering the best way for them to head back to the hotel. "You and Danny are going to be able to get us out of this, right?"

Kieran was looking at him too. And there was fear and hope and trust on both their faces. Damn.

Rusty couldn't bear to let them down. "Of course we are," he said softly. "I promise guys, we've got it covered. We'll see you're alright."

Kieran grinned in obvious relief and Eddie's face broke into a smile for the first time that night. "Thanks, Rus'," he simply. "I knew you wouldn't let us down."

There was an unpleasant feeling in the pit of Rusty's stomach.

* * *

Danny was almost certain that Kenny had no part in any of this. Almost. He found it difficult to imagine that Kenny had knowingly helped to set them up, but he _knew _how careful Kenny's checks normally were. Difficult to imagine he'd have taken on a commission, agreed to provide anonymity and not _noticed _that there was something fishy going on.

That was why, when Kenny answered the phone, Danny didn't even begin to apologise for the fact that it was the middle of the night.

"Hello?" Kenny said, sounding groggy and annoyed.

"It's Danny," he said simply and waited.

"Danny...what the...?" Kenny sounded surprised to hear from him alright. But Danny didn't _think _it was because Kenny was expecting him to be in jail. "If you're calling to tell me you got the bronzes, it could really have waited till morning."

"We didn't get them," he said evenly, and he was holding back as much as he could, trying to figure out what Kenny knew.

"You didn't get..." There was a pause and Kenny seemed more awake in an instant. "What happened? Is everyone alright?"

Danny relaxed a little at the note of genuine concern in Kenny's voice. Maybe it could be faked, but he doubted it. "We're fine, but we're being set up on a murder rap."

"_What?" _

The next few minutes were filled with Danny's careful explanations and Kenny's abundant apologies.

"I didn't know, Danny, I _swear," _Kenny said at last. "Jesus...The guy's name is Theodore Rush. He checked out fine...Max Keene referred him to me. Fuck, Danny, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do - "

" – we'll let you know," Danny cut in. "See you, Kenny," he said and he hung up.

Huh. He leaned back consideringly. Max Keene had been a name to be trusted once upon a time, but Danny had heard a couple of rumours lately. Too many bottles, too little money, too few friends that meant anything. Probably it was worth having a word with Max. Probably it was worth having several words with Max. Right. Then they just needed to find this 'Theodore Rush' and convince him to sign a full confession...fuck.

He threw himself down on the bed blindly. The sun was beginning to rise. He'd half-promised Tess he'd be home this evening.

God, he missed her. And he was so afraid.

* * *

Saul had managed to get three rooms with no difficulty and he'd managed to leave the staff with the impression that they were business travellers. Suppliers of sundries to nightclubs. Should allay any suspicions at odd hours kept.

First step and he was phoning around all the local papers with his best English accent, professing surprise and dismay each and every time he was told it was the middle of the night.

"Oh, I _am _sorry. I'm phoning from the offices of the Telegraph in London. I'm trying to get a reference for a crime reporter who worked with you a while back...I'm sorry, I had the name a moment ago..."

Fifth time, with the St Louis Clarion and he struck gold.

"Oh, you mean Jeff Meyers," the woman offered helpfully. "He left us about six months ago. I'd thought he moved to Ohio though..."

"No, no, sorry it was Simon Forrest I was looking...oh!" He said apologetically, writing the name down in his notebook. "I _am _sorry. I think I've been given the wrong number. Thank you _so _much for your assistance, all the same."

He hung up swiftly, and shortly after he was phoning the police department.

"Ah, hello," he began, genial and American again. "I'm looking to talk to someone in relation to the Alexander Cabot Northridge murder."

"I believe Detective Stevens is liaising with the press," he was told.

"Mark Stevens?" he asked, affecting surprise.

"No, David," he was informed.

"Oh, _David," _he nodded to himself and scrawled the name on the notebook, underlining it a couple of times for luck. "Say, didn't I hear he'd had some good news a while back?"

"His promotion, you mean? Yes, it was about time too. I'll put you through to him now."

"David!" Saul began exuberantly. "It's Monty Fall here. Good to talk to you again. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way. No one deserves it more."

"Uh, thank you," David said, sounding a little flummoxed. "I'm afraid I don't quite – "

" – oh, how stupid of me," Saul agreed. "You wouldn't remember me. We've only met a couple of times. That press conference..." he trailed off in a knowing tone. "Anyway, I've taken over from Jeff Meyers now, for my sins."

"Oh!" David sounded surprised. "You're looking for a story."

"I'm looking for a comment," Saul corrected.

"We are pursuing every lead and are confident of an early arrest," David said woodenly.

"Thank you," Saul nodded. "Now, off the record. Is it true that this is a weird one?"

He didn't get much. Certainly didn't get anything they didn't already know. But David was painting a picture of a burglary gone wrong and burglars who'd vanished into thin air.

Long as they stayed that way.

* * *

The sun was getting high in the sky when they got back to Westacres. It had taken a few hours. Call him paranoid – and Kieran had – but he didn't want to leave any kind of trail linking them back to the evidence they'd just gotten rid of. They'd walked a couple of blocks, grabbed a cab to a bar on the other side of town, and when they'd fallen into the next cab, he and Kieran had been drunk and loud, and Eddie had been quiet and tightlipped. Best they could hope for. Rusty was pretty sure that the last thing they looked like was a bunch of thieves, anyway.

They stopped by Saul's room first and Kieran and Eddie picked up their new room keys.

"Thanks, guys," Rusty told them, as they headed for the door. "Get a few hours sleep, yeah? Think we're all going to need it."

He waited until they'd left before turning to Saul. "So. The police going to be breaking down the doors in the next few hours?"

"Doesn't look like it," Saul told him, sounding tired. "They're talking about pursuing every possible lead, leaving no stone unturned – all the things they say when they've got nothing." He paused. "Apparently it was an anonymous tip that led them to the hotel. We can't assume that there won't be another one."

"Would need to be someone close," Rusty commented, sitting heavily on the other bed, glancing towards the door Kieran and Eddie had just walked out of. "I don't know if I buy it. You really think so?"

Saul sighed. "It wasn't you, me or Danny."

"Kenny knew where we were staying," Rusty commented.

There was a pause. "You think Kenny would.." Saul shook his head. "I've known Kenny fifteen years."

Rusty rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I don't see that _anyone _would," he admitted, feeling worryingly idealistic. "Danny thinks it might be Kenny."

"What are we going to do?" Saul asked troubled.

He shrugged. "Keep Kieran and Eddie out of it as much as possible, wait and see if we get arrested," he suggested flippantly. He couldn't seriously believe it. Couldn't really picture Kieran or Eddie – their _friends_ after all – making cold-blooded plans to screw them over. Apart from the small matter of loyalty, Eddie simply couldn't keep up an act for long enough to go through with something like that, and as for Kieran...well, the ideas of 'Kieran' and 'cold-blooded' simply didn't mesh in his head.

"We could use someone on the inside with the cops," Saul said suddenly.

Distracted, it took Rusty a moment to get it. "You serious?"

"There are going to be lots of press on this," Saul said calmly. "I shouldn't have any problems."

"We're facing a murder charge and you want to go camp out with the cops?" he said, and his tone was sharp and he really didn't like this plan one bit. The number of things that could go wrong was incalculable. Trouble was, Saul had that look in his eyes, and Rusty didn't think that 'no' was going to get him anywhere. Wasn't like Saul couldn't see all the same risks as Rusty.

God, Saul was so _stubborn. _

"What do you need?" he asked at last.

Saul smiled. "Press credentials for a start. We'll get to it later." He leaned forwards. "I'm not going to get caught, Rusty," he said, with absolute confidence.

"You taught me that no one ever thinks they're going to get caught," Rusty shot back immediately.

"So I did," Saul agreed. "I'm still not going to get caught."

He smiled in spite of himself. "Well, good." He paused. "You should get some sleep too."

"Good advice," Saul agreed, regarding him evenly. "Are you intending on following it?"

"Probably not," he admitted with a grin. "Do I get a room key?"

"There was a problem getting five rooms," Saul said, busying himself looking through the notebook in his hand. "I figured you wouldn't mind sharing with Danny."

_Oh._ Oh, he guessed he hadn't been anywhere near successful at hiding his earlier disquiet. The smile burst out of him in an endless moment of affection. "Thanks," he said, softly, and Saul didn't pretend not to understand.

"Try and get some sleep, Robert," he said gently instead.

Rusty was still smiling as he pushed the door to his and Danny's room open. The smile quickly faded though, when he caught sight of Danny stretched out on the bed, phone to his ear, looking tense and miserable.

"No, we're just going to be away a little longer," he was saying. "Something's come up."

Rusty winced. Ah. Tess.

He made as if to go back out the door and Danny quickly waved him inside.

He sat down on the other bed and tried not to listen.

"That's Rusty just come in, Tess. I've got to go...Yeah, we've got a breakfast meeting...I'll see you soon. Yes, I promise...Me too...Bye."

Danny replaced the phone on the hook and Rusty didn't say anything.

"I love her," Danny said eventually.

Yeah.

Danny's eyes were closed, pain hidden. "I don't know what I'm going to if we have to – "

" – then we'll make sure we don't have to," Rusty said simply.

Danny looked over at him sharply and smiled. "Right," he agreed. "Is everything – "

" – no problems," Rusty told him simply. "Shouldn't be any way to trace us back to Northridge." Shouldn't be.

"Good," Danny nodded.

"I saw Saul," Rusty added quickly. "He wants to go undercover with the cops. As a journalist."

Danny's eyes widened. "Huh," he said slowly.

"It'll help," Rusty admitted. It would more than help, it could mean the difference between them walking away and going to prison.

"Yeah," Danny said with a sigh. "Kenny didn't sell us out."

"You're sure?" Rusty asked before he could help himself.

Danny smiled. "Sure as can be," he said lightly. "But Max Keene sent him the client."

"Oh..." Rusty shook his head. That might explain a lot. "Saul's worried about how the cops knew where we were staying."

"Yeah," Danny said, the smile vanishing in a second. "I can't see it, Rus'. I mean, Kieran is...and we've worked with Eddie a dozen times. They wouldn't do that to us. And how could they be sure that they wouldn't get caught up in it?"

He didn't know. And he didn't like the thought any more than Danny did. "We got a name for the client?" he asked, moving on to something they could fix.

"Theodore Rush," Danny said with a shrug. "I'm guessing it's a fake name."

"Theodore Rush," Rusty repeated incredulously. "As in Teddy Rush?"

Danny sat up quickly and looked at him sharply. "Means something?"

"Teddy is Northridge's nephew, one of the directors of his company, and heir apparent." Rusty explained.

"Fuck," Danny exhaled. "That's a motive."

"And a half," Rusty agreed. Seemed Teddy had woken up a few billion dollars richer this morning, and in charge of half of Zuultech. "He's supposed to be a mean, obnoxious, paranoid son of a bitch too." Not someone they'd want to work for at the best of times.

"Think we need to have a couple of words with Max Keene," Danny suggested lightly.

"Think we need to have a whole lot of words with Max Keene," Rusty agreed.

* * *

There was a police cruiser outside Max Keene's house. A police cruiser and an ambulance.

They drove past slowly, exchanging a wide-eyed, worried look, and Rusty hurriedly parked the car around the corner.

A small crowd had gathered around the door and they joined the back of it hastily, ducking their heads, staying out of the cops line of sight. Stupid, but they had to _know._ "What's going on?" Danny asked one of the gawking bystanders innocently.

"The man who lives here died," the woman told him, with prurient interest. "A week ago, they reckon. Alcohol poisoning. He was a drinker!"

"How awful," Danny managed.

They walked away quickly. Numbly.

"Coincidence?" Danny asked wildly, when they were out of earshot, out of sight of the cops.

Rusty shook his head. No. No, it couldn't be. Too much of a coincidence. Far too much. Max put Teddy on to a bunch of thieves to get rid of Northridge and now Max was dead.

Danny's eyes were horrified. "Kenny!"

Kenny. The next link in the chain. The next person who knew the truth, who knew what had happened, who knew the murderer's name.

They ran helter skelter to the nearest phone.

There was no answer at Kenny's.

"Try Margaret," Rusty suggested breathlessly. "She and Kenny have been getting close again. Maybe..."

Danny nodded tersely and dialled the number. "Margaret? It's Danny – "

" – Oh, _Danny,_" She was sobbing and Danny looked at Rusty and shook his head. Rusty closed his eyes. _God. _

* * *

Barely midday and they were in a bar, hiding at a corner table with a bottle of whisky.

Kenny was dead. Danny had spoken to him just a few hours ago, and now Kenny was dead. Murdered.

Margaret had given them the full story, between her sobs and their heartmeant condolences. A crowded subway platform, the press of people, and Kenny had just fallen in front of a train.

An accident, Margaret had said.

They knew better.

Danny knew better.

He could see Kenny, standing on the platform, not a care in the world, never dreaming that he was about to die. He could see the hand reaching out, pushing, shoving, killing. Could see the sudden shock and realisation on Kenny's face. The desperate scream cut off in an instant.

"I should have seen this coming," he said, staring down unseeingly at the glass in his hand. "I should have warned him."

"You didn't know," Rusty told him fiercely. "We couldn't have known."

Danny laughed hollowly. "Yeah. Bet that's a great comfort to Margaret. I should have told him to be careful, Rusty."

Rusty's hand was on his, and after a moment Danny looked up and smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Least we don't have to worry about serving any jail time, huh."

"Just as well," Rusty agreed lightly, his thumb brushing tenderly over Danny's knuckles. "I hear prison food is awful."

Max. Kenny. Both had known the truth. Both were dead.

They were next.


	5. Intelligence and Incursion

**A/N: And another chapter! I have therefore written three times more of this story in the past month than I have in the past two years! **

**A/N2: As always, thanks go to InSilva for the preread. **

* * *

They had to keep moving, figuratively speaking. Had to stay ahead of the game. In some ways, nothing had changed. They were still being hunted. Just that they knew that they weren't going to get _arrested _at the end of it all.

They had to stay ahead. Had to find out as much as possible. And that meant getting into Teddy Rush's business.

By mid afternoon there was a plan, of sorts, and they were moving forwards.

Danny looked across at Rusty, eyes sparkling with amusement. He was dressed in an elegant but overstated suit, his shoes shining and his hair slicked back. Rusty, on the other hand, was wearing jeans, a grubby flannel shirt and work boots.

"We don't match," Danny remarked cheerfully.

Rusty nodded. "You look like the bad guy in a cheap political thriller."

"You look like one of the Village People," Danny shot back.

"Which one?" Rusty asked with interest.

"Well, not the astronaut," Danny pointed out.

Rusty pursed his lips thoughtfully. "There wasn't an astronaut."

"Then you're definitely not him," Danny explained, simply.

There was a long moment and they stood in the corridor, watching each other, memorising every detail, and the words '_Be careful' _hung in the air, always unsaid, always more than meant.

"Last one back buys the pizza," Rusty said finally, and they smiled and walked away without saying anything else.

Wasn't like there was anything that needed to be said.

* * *

The Corinthian Bar was exclusive, upmarket, fashionable and absolutely not to Danny's tastes. The sort of place where you probably got thrown out of for having less than five platinum cards in your wallet.

However, this was where the high ups at Zuultech came to drink after work, and right now, Danny was fitting in just fine.

Here he was, a jet-setting-executive over from Turin for a meeting that had now been cancelled, owing to the not-inconsiderable upheaval that normally occurred in a company the day after the boss had been murdered. Now, in response to his wasted trip, he was making sensible use of his expenses in the nearest bar, nad he'd made half a dozen new friends already.

Tony, Cliff, Seymour, Roy, Phillip and Weyland, all gathered round him, and of course, what they _really _wanted to talk about was the murder of Alexander Cabot Northridge.

"I heard it was just a burglary," Cliff explained over martinis. "Some thugs forced their way into his house and killed him. And then, of course, the cowards were so scared of what they'd done that they just fled without even taking something. Such a waste."

Danny honestly couldn't say whether Cliff was more disgusted by the murder or the missed opportunity.

"Of course," Roy jumped in. "That's just the way things are these days. Country's going to the dogs. None of us are safe in our beds."

"Scum like these thieves...death's too good for them," Seymour said, downing his fourth martini unhappily. "Think they're entitled to everything. Don't have the brains or the wits to succeed in the real world."

Danny kept smiling.

"Yeah, well, they had the wit to get rid of old Northridge, which is more than anyone else managed," Cliff pointed out to uproarious laughter.

"He wasn't too popular then, your boss?" Danny asked casually, signalling for another round of drinks.

Cliff shrugged. "Not with everyone. He was alright, but he had a nasty habit of finding out everything you didn't want him to know."

Huh. Interesting. "What kind of things?" he asked innocently.

Phillip shot him a sharp glance. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason," he said immediately and easily. "Idle curiosity. It's my worst flaw."

"If that's your worst flaw, you're doing okay," Roy said, amid general laughter.

He let the conversation drift naturally for another five minutes or so, before he seized the next opportunity.

"So, what about the new head honcho, Teddy Rush?" he asked with interest. "Guess we're going to be doing a lot of business with him...he going to live up to his uncle's legacy?"

"Tricky Teddy?" Seymour sniggered. "Not a chance. He'll be too busy taping conversations and conspiring against himself to actually do anything."

Inside Danny was alert and listening. Outside and he was amused and sceptical. "Yeah, right. He can't be that bad."

"Oh, no?" Seymour took this as a challenge. Which, of course, it basically was. "I used to work in his department 'fore I got my promotion. Any conversation you ever had with him, he could recite it back to you chapter and verse, the next time you talked to him. Used to think that he was just one of those freaks that never forgets anything, you know? Fuck knows, he seemed creepy enough."

Danny smiled and nodded for the man to continue.

"Turned out he was actually taping every conversation he ever had. Always carries a Dictaphone in his pocket and he's got every phone he's likely to use wired up. Now how weird is _that?" _Seymour finished triumphantly.

Danny was prepared to concede that it was indeed _exceptionally _weird. It was also the first real sign of hope he'd had in the past twenty four hours.

If Teddy really did record _all _his phone calls...they might be in with a shot here.

He turned to the bartender, happy to buy this lucrative information mine a few more drinks, when he saw someone looking at him thoughtfully in a mirror.

An older man. Late forties, perhaps. Balding slightly, but he looked muscular enough under the expensive suit.

As Danny watched, his gaze spread across the bar, examining each patron in turn. Huh. He breathed a sigh of relief. Probably not him being singled out after all.

"Who's that?" he asked Seymour in an undertone.

Seymour blinked at him blearily. "Don' look," he advised him. "That's Kent Lamming. Was Mr Northridge's best friend, Head of Security and right hand man. If anyone's really broken up about Mr Northridge's death, it'll be him. Heard he was out of town today...he's probably back to make sure everyone's mourning properly."

Oh. A grieving friend. Danny watched him in the mirror and he didn't know the man but he could see the pinched look of exhaustion, the lines of tension and bewilderment. Waking up to find that your best friend was dead. He felt a painful stab of sympathy.

Now there was someone who'd want revenge. Someone who'd want to track down the murderers and make them pay. Someone who would do anything to make the hurt a little less.

Someone to avoid at all costs.

* * *

Teddy Rush had three maids, ten gardeners, a chauffeur, three chefs and four men who might be butlers, footmen or valets, but who carried guns inside their jackets.

And it seemed like some of them – the gardeners, and the maids, anyway – were in the habit of stealing away to a quiet little bar a few miles down the road of an evening.

Difficult to believe that this place - with the torn lino on the floor and the chipped plastic tables – was only a mile or so away from Teddy's luxury mansion. Real uptown downtown time.

Still. Fortunate for the servants, he guessed, and so far he'd spent the evening flirting with two of the maids at once.

So far he hadn't learnt that much. Teddy wasn't an especially kind or generous employer, and he'd listened to a litany of minor complaints, ending with the fact that all three maids had been asked to work as waitresses at Teddy's birthday party tomorrow night without even the whiff of overtime.

"The party's not cancelled?" Rusty wondered guilessly. "I heard his uncle died yesterday."

There was a dismissive laugh from Emma as she clung to his left arm. "_He _wouldn't cancel the party for that. Didn't care for his uncle one little bit. Spent too much time with his godfather."

"Not that his uncle was a gentleman either," Lyndsey added, leaning in close to his other side. "One time his hat was blown away and I half killed myself chasing it down the driveway, and do you know what he gives me? A lousy dime. Doesn't say a word, mind you, just throws the coin for me to catch."

"You'd have preferred the thanks?" Rusty suggested.

She stared at him. "I'd have preferred fifty dollars."

Right. On the other hand, who wouldn't? He smiled dazzlingly at her and let the conversation continue.

More seemingly useless titbits. Teddy was crazy about his food. The kitchen in the mansion took up half the ground floor and would rival the facilities found in a five star restaurant.

"He's always sending back perfectly good food too," Emma told him indignantly. "It drives Dominic – that's the head chef – completely mad. Just last week he sent back a tray of profiteroles because there wasn't enough chocolate sauce! I ask you! Such a waste."

He nodded sympathetically, but there was a part of him that was considering the horrors of profiteroles without enough chocolate sauce. Personally, he thought that Teddy might just have a point.

"And of course, he was taping what Anton was saying," she added, shaking her head. "You always have to be on your guard."

Okay, that was different. "He was taping the conversation?"

They both spoke at once.

"He tapes _every _conversation!"

"It's ridiculous!"

"All his phone calls, everyone he talks to!"

"There's a safe in his office that's nothing but tapes of his old conversations!"

"Wow," he said, looking vacantly amused. "That sure is something."

It actually was. Something that sounded useful.

"You know," Lyndsey whispered in his ear, her hand creeping slowly up his thigh. "There's a motel just over the road."

There was. Rusty had seen it when he came in. One of those places that charged by the hour and looked like it should have been condemned ten years ago. He thought he'd probably pay good money _not _to stay there.

"We could get to know each other a little better," Emma offered breathily, and her hand was squeezing his other thigh, and they were both looking at him like he had just the right amount of chocolate sauce.

Huh. Time to leave. Sharpish.

* * *

Saul was still struggling to believe that Kenny was dead. He'd known him a long time. Longer than he'd known Rusty and Danny, strange as that always sounded. And they'd never been _close _but they'd been friends and now Kenny was dead and Saul wanted to get those bastards.

Not the point right now. Make sure everyone was clear and safe. _Then _they could start talking revenge.

Getting the necessary press credentials had been easy enough. He'd taken Kieran round to the offices of the Clarion. They'd been central heating engineers, and they'd been in and out in half an hour and he was holding a pass proclaiming Monty Fall to be a real person and a valued member of the fourth estate.

Of course, it wasn't until he showed it to the cop on duty outside the press conference that he was absolutely sure that it was going to work. Right up until that point, some part of his brain had been reminding him exactly what he'd said to Rusty about overconfidence, and imagining the moment when the cops grabbed him and proclaimed him to be one of the men who'd murdered Northridge.

As it was, the cop barely spared him or his credentials a second glance, just waving him through with the rest.

He kept the sigh of relief firmly inside.

This was no time to relax.

This was time to work.

The press conference wasn't due to start for another ten minutes yet, and he circulated the room, spreading rumours.

Two stories that he needed to get started.

The fugitives were rumoured to have fled the country by means unknown.

The police suspected that there was some conspiracy at the back of all this.

He was careful. He never stated it as his own opinion. He asked what other people thought of the rumours, and not one admitted that they hadn't heard them till now, and he offered them as solid fact – musing on the extradition process, speculating as to who might have wanted Northridge out of the way and blinking incredulously if anyone suggested it had been a simple case of robbery.

He was the naive newcomer and the voice of authority by turn. Whatever got the rumours started.

By the time the press conference was underway and open for questions, after Detective Stevens had got through describing the make of the gun and the way Northridge had been shot at point blank range through the forehead, the very first question was following Saul's rumours.

"Are the police actively seeking the man who ordered this crime, or are they content to chase after scapegoats."

Saul leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the show.

* * *

When Danny stepped into the room, Rusty was already there, a large pizza box lying on the bed next to him.

This couldn't wait. "He tapes – "

" – all of them," Rusty agreed, flipping the lid open.

Danny took a slice and slumped down on the bed next to Rusty. "He talked to Max. And Kenny."

Rusty nodded. "He keeps the tapes in a safe in his study."

They looked at each other for a long moment. "Oh, that's weak," Rusty said at last.

"That's very weak," Danny agreed. "It's all we got though."

"He's having a party tomorrow night," Rusty said slowly.

"Should give us enough of a chance," Danny nodded.

They ate their pizza in silence, sitting as close together as they could.

It was still weak.

* * *

Danny was vaguely astonished that he'd managed to sleep at all that night. He'd lain awake for a long time, listening to Rusty's steady breathing from the other bed, and he'd thought that sleep was impossible.

So many things that could go wrong and he told himself fiercely that nothing would.

He'd thought that they'd be home by now. They should have been home by now. He should be lying in his own bed right now, with Tess sleeping in his arms and Rusty safe in the room next door.

And what was so wrong with that, as a domestic dream anyway? Wanting the people he cared about safe and with him. Sounded like perfection to him.

He wished he was there right now.

Eventually, exhaustion had won out and he'd slept.

The next day was spent in preparation. Plans were easy enough to come by – Rusty had taken Kieran off to the planning office, and by noon they were back and Danny wasn't going to ask about the daisies drawn on Kieran's forehead in blue felt tip. Not yet, anyway, and instead he'd sat and listened as Rusty went through the layout of the house again and again, until Rusty was satisfied that he'd understood.

Eddie had successfully sourced them a couple of caterers uniforms, and Danny had managed to wheedle his way into the catering company and add some names to the list.

They shouldn't have any problems. He pretended he couldn't see Kieran and Eddie's discontent at being left out of the loop. After tonight, things would be getting better. There would be no problems.

Saul was still in with the press, and the rumours he'd been spreading were starting to bear fruit. The news that morning had whispers of conspiracies. Nothing concrete, of course, but enough speculation that the cops would be wondering if someone knew something they didn't. And Saul was spending today getting closer to Detective Stevens, trying to spread some uncertainty directly. And Danny knew how uncomfortable Rusty was with that, and it wasn't like he was exactly jumping for joy himself. It was dangerous. And it meant that Saul couldn't help with the break in as well. Not even Saul could be in two places at once.

Still. Everything was going according to plan.

So why did Danny still feel uneasy?

* * *

Rusty kept his head down as they were waved inside the door to the kitchen. Emma and Lyndsey had both made it clear that they had absolutely no intention of actually working that night, but the way their luck was going, he just didn't want to take any chances.

There were plenty of people milling around the kitchen. Men in cheap, polystyrene dinner jackets, like the ones they were wearing, and they didn't stand out in the slightest. Easy enough to just slip out the far door and head for the stairs and no one spared them a second glance.

There were people standing in the hallway and they hung back on the staircase, for a while, and he couldn't stop thinking that they'd done this the night before last too, waiting until a murderer had walked past.

Danny's hand was on his shoulder. An instant of understanding and comfort.

A slight gap, a sudden silence, and they were walking quickly and purposefully through the hallway, heading for the next set of stairs. The office was on the second floor. Shouldn't be anyone up there, they hoped. Everyone should be at the party.

So far, so good, and the hallways were clear, and the door opened with very little effort, and then Danny was standing in front of the door and Rusty was kneeling in front of the safe.

"How long?" Danny asked in a whisper.

He glanced at the safe. "Twenty minutes," he promised.

He could sense the grin without looking round. "Do it in ten and I'll buy you an ice cream," Danny offered.

His lips twitched and he tried to sound offended. "I'm a professional. I can't be bribed," he claimed, and he heard Danny laughing softly.

He had the safe open in nine minutes.

Just as promised, it was absolutely full of Dictaphone tapes.

Danny stared over his shoulder. "Huh. How do we know which one we're looking for?"

"They're in boxes," he pointed out. "Looks like these ones are from the past month. These the month before."

That should do it, really, and he pulled them out and stuffed them into the bag that Danny had ripped out of the lining of his jacket.

There'd better be something useful in here.

They headed for the door quickly, and Danny opened it a crack. "Clear," he whispered over his shoulder.

They sneaked along the corridor to the window at the end, and they opened it just a crack, just enough to drop the bag out of the window into the secluded bushes below.

"You know, it is a party," he mused in a low voice. "Let's hope we didn't just drop that on top of some poor couple looking for a bit of privacy."

Danny grinned. "Teach them to be adventurous."

Devoid of incriminating evidence, they strolled back along the corridor and down the stairs. Now all they had to do was get back out through the kitchen and they'd be away.

It was just when they were on the last step that the man walked round the corner, caught sight of them and stared.

Rusty had never actually seen the man before. But he could see the bulge of the gun under his jacket and he could see the expression of dawning recognition, and he was already running before the man was speaking into a head set, and charging towards them.

The stairs to the kitchen and they were running, taking them two at a time, and Danny was a little ahead of him, and the man was sprinting silently behind them.

Only good thing was that he hadn't started shooting yet. Maybe he wanted to keep everything quiet for the party.

The corridor they were aiming for was randomly full of muscular men in suits holding guns, and Danny veered to the left. So many doorways and passageways...place was a maze and he wasn't sure how they were going to get out.

This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't...

A shout behind them, and he risked a look back, and one of the men had slipped and fallen, and Rusty grinned to himself. That'd teach him to buy cheap shoes.

He turned back and the grin faded.

Danny had only been a couple of steps in front of him.

But there was no sign of him.

He was standing at a t-junction, and there were corridors branching off that led left and right, and they immediately curved sharply away and _there was no sign of Danny. _

He could have gone anywhere and Rusty only had a split second to decide.

Left was the right way to go. If Danny had gone left, he'd be out of the house before he knew it.

Rusty ran right, staring up every corridor he ran past, searching desperately. Fuck, this place was huge.

He got another twenty feet or so, before they brought him down, and then the first man was in his face, dragging him to his feet.

"We never thought you'd be this obliging," the man sneered. "Thanks for that."

They had him. They had him but they didn't have Danny. That was something.

"You going to ask the boss what to do with him, Mr Welsh?" one of the other men asked cautiously.

The first man – Welsh - shook his head. "No. He's at the party. We don't need to disturb him. I know exactly what to do with him."

"Apologise for wrinkling my shirt and let me go?" Rusty suggested mildly.

Welsh shoved him against the wall with a snarl. "Oh, I don't think so," he said, and he was pulling the door next to Rusty open, and Rusty seized the moment, kicked Welsh hard in the knee and tried to run. _Tried_ to run.

Before he'd got two steps, his head was smashed against the wall, and he was barely aware of being thrown inside the room, barely aware of the cold, cold floor under him, barely aware of watching Welsh pressing some buttons just outside the door and slamming the door shut.

There was no handle on this side of the door.

He looked round at the large, walk-in-freezer and breathed in sharply and the frozen air was already burning his lungs.

He was trapped.


	6. Confined

**A/N: For once I'm updating the Spanish Inquisition. Hope everyone remembers it.**

* * *

It was cold.

Far too cold.

Too cold to move, too cold to think, too cold to breathe and Rusty was pretty interested in continuing with all three.

He was still sitting on the freezer floor and unconsciously he'd pulled his legs up towards his chest, his arms wrapped tight around them, his fists clenched tight and tucked up inside his sleeves. Making himself as small as possible, trying to keep himself as warm as possible and he was already shivering.

This wasn't any good.

He had to get out of here, it was as simple as that. If he stayed here he was going to be a human popsicle before too long.

He stumbled to his feet and over to the door, his fingers fumbling along the crack on the door. Burning cold and with a gasp he drew his fingers back, stuck them in his mouth. Warmth. The only warmth available and it almost hurt and for a split second he revelled in it.

No time.

There was nothing to get a purchase on in the door. He scrabbled at the edge of the door, and the brief surge of warmth had only made his fingers numb.

Nothing here. No way of getting through this door.

He stared at it stupidly for a long moment, the cold creeping through his bones.

Maybe there was another way out.

Yeah, right. Because freezers were really known for having multiple exits.

He looked anyway. Examining every inch, every last tile on the wall, just in case there was something behind it. His hands were hidden inside his jacket, tucked in close to his chest and he still didn't feel any warmer. What came of these cheap suits, he guessed. Yeah. If he was dressed in his own clothes he'd be perfectly warm now. If he was dressed in his own clothes and back in their apartment, curled up on the sofa, Danny beside him, with a mug of hot chocolate, the heating on and a mug of hot chocolate warming his hands, and _Danny _and _warm._

He hoped Danny had kept running. That would be the sensible thing for Danny to have done. Head back to the hotel and wait for Rusty to join him.

Yeah.

Never going to happen. Not in a million years.

Danny would be here, somewhere, searching for him. And while there was the outside chance that Danny would _find _him and they'd escape and everything would be just fine...he didn't think that a freezer was anywhere on the list of places Danny would check.

Mmm. Well. Actually, since he was missing, the list of places that Danny would check included _everywhere. _But the freezer wasn't going to be anywhere near the top and it was far more likely that Danny would get caught long before he found Rusty.

Fuck.

He had to get out of here. He had to find Danny so that Danny wasn't trying to find him.

God, he was so _cold._

There was no sign of any other way out here. No part of the walls that looked vulnerable, no hidden air ducts, no nothing. One way in, one way out, and that was the door he couldn't open.

Maybe...maybe if he could find something to force the door with. Get something inside the crack. Something thin. Pry it open. Maybe.

He wrenched at a storage cabinet with hands that might as well have belonged to someone else, and eventually, after what felt like forever, a small piece of plastic came free and his fingers were torn and bleeding.

He couldn't feel it.

That wasn't good.

He stuck his fingers in his mouth again, rubbed his hands together briskly, and the pain was welcome. He was going to get out of here, and when he did, he'd like it if he still had all of his fingers.

The plastic in the side of the door, and he shoved and twisted and jiggled, threw himself against it, did everything he could think of.

Didn't move in the slightest. He'd swear the door was looking smug.

Dispirited and exhausted, he slumped down onto the floor to catch his breath. He shouldn't be this tired already. That wasn't good either.

He wondered how long he had. Less time than he'd thought, he guessed. In the right – wrong – conditions, hypothermia could set in within fifteen minutes. It had been more than ten already.

He huddled up as tight as possible and a thought slowly dawned.

They'd left him here...they'd left him here, only they hadn't had a chance to check what he'd stolen. They hadn't asked any questions. And he hadn't had the tapes on him.

As long as they didn't catch Danny – and please, please, please let Danny be safe, because that was what mattered – they'd have questions they needed him to answer. And that meant that they'd need to let him out, at least for a while.

And _that _meant opportunity.

They opened the door, he surprised them, he ran...it _could _work. It could work. And then he'd find Danny and everything would be okay.

Okay. What he needed was a weapon. Something. Anything.

* * *

The press conference had been crowded and hostile. Oh, not to him, his cover was still well in place. But it had been a little too long without any hint of an arrest and all the rumours had the reporters champing at the bit.

The questions flew thick and fast and he could practically see Detective Stevens wilting in the face of them.

"What are you doing to find out about the man behind this?"

"Is it true you're looking for an inside man?"

"Can you comment on the rumours that this may have been a politically motivated hit?"

"I have a source that puts the thieves in Rio de Janeiro – do the police have any comments?"

"What are you trying to hide?"

On and on for the full twenty minutes and Stevens was hardly able to get a word in edgeways. And the questions might be plentiful but the answers were few and far between. Official police statements not telling anyone a thing they didn't already know. Alexander Cabot Northridge was dead. The police were looking for the killers. They had the descriptions of four men. They were confident of making an arrest.

Same old story and the press weren't buying.

By the end of the press conference, as the reporters were filing out, Stevens was sitting behind the desk, his head buried in his hands.

"Hi, David," he said, affecting a wry smile. "Tough crowd, huh?"

Stevens looked up at him, blinking. "I'm sorry, I don't have any further comments to make at this time," he said woodenly.

Saul held his hands up. "No, no, I appreciate that," he said genially. "I've got all the information I need for my story." He projected sympathy and professionalism and absolute trustworthiness.

"The police are ineffectual layabouts?" Stevens suggested bitterly.

Mmm. Saul had read that headline. "I'm sure the criminals would be a lot happier if you _were,"_ he commented truthfully.

Startled, Stevens laughed. "I suppose so. At this stage it's almost good to think _someone's _happy."

"Want to talk about it?" Saul offered, and he held up his hands placatingly at Stevens' sharp look. "Off the record, naturally."

Stevens hesitated.

"You want to go get a drink?" Saul suggested persuasively.

A further pause and Saul stood there, trying his best to look like he wasn't crossing his fingers. "Yeah, alright, Stevens said at last. "Off the record, right?"

"Of course," Saul nodded.

"And you're buying," Stevens added.

"Of course," Saul smiled. Anything that got him even a little closer to what they needed to know.

The bar was quiet and smoky and Stevens stared down into his glass glumly.

"Thing is, Monty," he said. "This is a weird one. The call was made at one minute after midnight. But the security system wasn't blown until two minutes to. That means that they got into the house, killed Northridge and got away in less than three minutes."

Saul felt the stirrings of hope. "Impossible?" It sounded impossible, when he said it like that. It probably _was _impossible; after all, it hadn't happened. Not that he could tell Stevens that. But if the cops were thinking of other alternatives, if the cops were coming closer to the real truth, for once that could only be good for them.

"Not impossible," Stevens said slowly. "But not _likely._ And more than that...according to forensics, Northridge was shot at point blank. But there's no sign of any defensive injuries. The way he fell..." Stevens shook his head. "His hands were behind his back. He must have been taken by surprise."

"By strangers who pulled a gun on him," Saul said, spelling out what he hoped they were both thinking. "He just stood still and watched them and didn't make a move to stop them."

"Yeah," Stevens said, grimacing. "And what was he even doing there? According to his people he'd retired for the night. Then he winds up in dead in his collection room. And I've got to ask myself..." He trailed off.

Saul obliged. "Why?"

"Exactly," Stevens nodded. "I suppose maybe he heard someone breaking in and went downstairs," he added unhappily.

"But why would a man in that position with a house full of employees go check for himself instead of alerting someone," Saul finished.

Stevens sighed and didn't answer for a long moment. "This case doesn't make sense," he said at last. "Not with what we're being fed."

He hesitated for a long second, wondering if he dared, wondering if he'd be pushing just that little bit too far. But he _had _to. If he could just nudge Stevens in the right direction then everything might just get that bit simpler. "You think it was an inside job?" he asked. "You think the robbery is a fake?"

As Stevens looked up at him sharply he cursed himself and kept his face a mask of professional interest and curiosity.

"No. Well, maybe. I don't know," Stevens said, shaking his head. "All seems so farfetched." He finished his drink and stood up. "I think I'd better go. And if I read a word about this in the papers..."

Saul held his hands up. "You won't, I swear. Strictly off the record."

He breathed a sigh of relief once Stevens had left. Seemed like that had gone well. Stevens was already having doubts; now he was having a few more. And, as long as Danny and Rusty had enjoyed the same sort of luck, things might just be going their way.

* * *

Nothing was going their way. Not even close.

They'd been running from what he assumed were Rush's men and all his attention had been on heading for the exit, being aware of exactly what was ahead of them, because there was no way of changing what was behind him.

And he'd turned a couple of corners, worried that they were somehow lying in wait, and maybe that had thrown his sense of direction a little off, and he'd turned back to check with Rusty whether the garden door was left or right and Rusty hadn't been there.

No one had been there. Not Rusty, not the men chasing them...it was like they'd just vanished off the face of the earth.

Fear gripped him, creeping through his bones.

Where was Rusty?

They couldn't have caught him...they _couldn't._ Rus' had been right behind him...Danny would have _heard. _Rusty would have called out to him, something.

They must just have got separated somehow.

Rusty must be looking for him right now. Rusty must be frantic.

Hurriedly he retraced his steps, sprinting back through the corridors, searching and desperate, imagining Rusty doing the same, and he didn't dare call out Rusty's name, because _they _might hear.

Voices in the corridor ahead. He flattened himself against a shadowed doorway and watched two of their pursuers walk past.

"He won't be getting out," the taller one laughed, and there was blood on his shirt sleeve.

His fists were clenched and he barely managed to resist the urge to jump out and confront them, to force them to tell him where Rusty was, to make them pay.

Not a fight he was going to win. And Rusty needed him.

Okay. Somewhere, almost certainly somewhere close by, they were keeping Rusty captive.

He had to be methodical about this.

The second they were out of sight and out of earshot, he started moving. Door to door search. He'd check _everywhere _and he'd find Rusty and they'd get out of here.

"Turn around. Slowly."

_Fuck._

The voice was coming from behind him. The sound of a gun being cocked was unmistakeable.

He turned round.

The first man who'd spotted them. The leader of Rush's minions, he'd guess.

"And now we have both of you," he sneered. "You should have ran while you had the chance."

Never going to happen. He smiled amiably at the man and the gun. "Say, I don't suppose you've seen my friend around the place, have you?"

The man smiled. "Oh, we've seen him. And you'll be joining him soon enough."

"Uh, Mr Welsh?" One of the other men came scurrying round the corner and stopped short on seeing Danny. "Holy fuck! The other one."

"Yes, Doakes," Welsh said impatiently. "What is it?"

"The boss is on the phone," Doakes said, holding a cellphone out. "He wants to know where you are?"

Lips pursed, Welsh reached out to take the phone and Danny took advantage of the moment of distraction and started to run back down the corridor.

Welsh grabbed him, seemingly effortlessly and flung him into the wall, his hand tight round Danny's collar, and Danny struggled and swore and kicked and Welsh never stopped talking on the fucking phone.

"Yes sir, the two thieves from Northridge's place...we have them...it's unclear sir, I've got a couple of men checking it out...I figured we'd leave them for the cops...of course not, sir."

The phone was hung up and Welsh regarded him dispassionately. "The boss would like to know why you're breaking into this house."

In the back of Danny's mind, something started, but he didn't have time to think. Too much effort to breathe, right now. "Well, you can tell tricky Teddy that I have a fetish for dressing up as a caterer. 's pathological. I've tried seeing someone, but what can you do?"

Welsh nodded, amusement glinting through impassivity, and he struck Danny backhanded across the mouth. "Fortunately I'm not expecting you to tell me."

Danny frowned as Welsh turned away, his hand flying to his ear absently. "Yes? The safe in the office?" That same damned amusement. "That's fine."

Fuck. They'd been rumbled. And that would mean that it was only a matter of time before they found the tapes, and Welsh had told his boss that they'd be left for the cops, and that would mean being arrested for murder, and he could picture the look on Tess' face, and oh, God, Rusty was going to spend the rest of his life in prison and Danny couldn't let that happen.

"We'll throw him in with the other," Welsh told Doakes, smiling. "Give him a chance to cool down a little."

They grabbed one arm each and started hauling him along the corridor, and even as he was fighting, Danny's mind was whirling.

They were taking him to Rusty. And that was what he wanted, wasn't it? Because as long as they were together they could think and they could plan and they could escape, and there'd be opportunity, there was always opportunity. They'd just need to bide their time.

Welsh stopped in front of a metal door and Danny blinked. This was a freezer, surely. He remembered the plans, the kitchen was just there and this was the main freezer for the house.

"Inside," Welsh said impatiently.

The door opened and Danny was shoved forwards and he only just had time to see the frozen leg of lamb coming towards his head before it all went black.


	7. Lullaby

**A/N: An always unlikely story. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Consciousness returned and the cold slammed into him like a baseball bat to the face, sudden, unstoppable and entirely overpowering. He was shivering with it, aching with it. The ground beneath him burned cold and every breath he took scoured his lungs.

Took him a second or two before he was really aware of anything else. The other things that were wrong here. The pain in his head. Rusty, lying practically on top of him, arms and legs wrapped around him.

He managed to open his eyes and Rusty's face was inches from his and he could see Rusty's breath hanging in the air, little particles of ice.

Right. Freezer. They'd been left here, and before that...the break in for the tapes. Somehow splitting up, looking for Rusty, getting captured, Rusty hitting him...

"You weren't who I was expecting," Rusty told him, sitting back carefully, guilt colouring his voice.

Danny nodded, for once accepting the apology. "Since when did you go all Serial Mom anyway?" he asked as he sat up.

"Since I found out that the only ice cream in here is raspberry ripple," Rusty answered, helping him to his feet. Danny could barely feel Rusty's hand in his. Already the cold was biting into his bones.

Huh. Danny suddenly realised that there were two jackets wrapped around him. And Rusty was only in his shirt sleeves and shivering violently.

Wordlessly he handed the extra jacket back. Rusty took it back with evident reluctance. They both knew Danny wasn't going to take no for an answer. Equally they both knew Rusty wasn't going to take both jackets, no matter how much he looked like he needed them.

"As long as you're unconscious, you needed 's much warmth as poss'ble," Rusty explained.

Danny tried not to react to the slightly slurred words. "That explain the cuddling?" he asked lightly.

"'nless I was jus' taking advantage of you in your sleep," Rusty nodded.

Danny grinned briefly. "How long was I out?"

Rusty glanced at his watch. "N-not long. Five minutes, m'be. After I hit you they just laughed and shoved you 'n here. By the t-time I got to my feet, the door was already closed 'gain."

There was a logical step missing in Rusty's story and Danny glanced at him critically and spied the shadow of a forming bruise around his eye.

He didn't say anything.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his hands were rubbing at his arms in a futile attempt to keep warm.

"We need to stay 'n our feet," Rusty said quietly. "K-keep moving. Should help f'r a while."

Danny had a feeling that he didn't want to know how long a while was. "We need to get out of here." Soon. Rusty was hunched in on himself, his hands stuffed inside his sleeves, and he looked a whole lot paler than normal. Might just be the light, but his lips even looked blue. He'd been in here longer than Danny. And the way he was built...body mass probably counted for something in this situation. However long _he _had, Rusty had less. Maybe a lot less.

"Door's only way in or out," Rusty told him. "Doesn' open from this side."

Danny nodded and he already knew Rusty would have tried all the finesse options. Which left... "Think we can force it?"

"Tried," Rusty answered briefly. "But with two of us – "

" – what have we got to lose?" Danny asked rhetorically.

_Nothing _was always the right answer. It was never the true answer.

Rusty produced a make-shift lever he'd obviously tried before, and with a little bit of effort – shaking hands didn't want to cooperate, numb fingers struggled with even the simplest of tasks – they had it wedged in the door and pushed with all their strength on the other side, and when that didn't work they tried pulling the door, tried shoving it, tried every application of skill and brute strength they could come up with to open the damned thing.

Nothing worked.

Danny was far more out of breath than he should have been and his lungs were aching with exertion.

There were little frozen beads of sweat on Rusty's brow.

Rusty leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. "Need rest a momen'," he said, starting to slide down the wall.

Danny grabbed him and hauled him upright, pulling him into a tight embrace, hoping that maybe he was still warm enough that it might make some sort of difference. "No," he said firmly. "You said, remember? We can't sit down. Can't stop moving."

They did that, chances were they weren't getting up again.

Rusty blinked at him and grimaced. "Sorry. Forgot."

Danny didn't even need to comment. He knew what that meant.

He took Rusty's hands together in his. "Rub your fingers together," he instructed, matching his actions to his words, and the tingling in his fingers was agony, but at least he could _feel _it. "Can you wriggle your toes?"

Rusty looked down at his shoes. "Not sure," he admitted tersely, and he glanced back up at Danny, shrugged, and stamped his feet instead.

"Good," Danny approved. "Let's try and get out of this mess with the same number of body parts we started with."

"Of all your 'xtremeties, fingers 'n toes are the ones you're worried 'bout?" Rusty asked.

Danny frowned. "What're you..." His eyes widened. "Oh! Oh, that can't happen, right?"

A moment later, Rusty shrugged heavily. "I wouldn' take it out to piss, put it that way."

Right. Ugh. He shook his head. "Can't get out the door. What are our options?"

"Was going to wait for them t' come back an' ambush them," Rusty told him.

Yeah. Frozen leg of lamb. That hadn't exactly gone to plan. "Don't know that they're coming back," he commented.

"Figured they'd want answers," Rusty said, stumbling back towards the door, and running his hand down it, like he was expecting there to suddenly be a way out. "Thought they'd talk...th-thought their boss would talk to them and then they'd want to know wh're the others are an' what we were d-doing an'– "

" – Welsh talked to his boss when he had me. They know about the safe. Don't think they want any other answers. Welsh said they were leaving us for the cops." He glanced round the freezer and it was getting so hard to _think. _"Guess Teddy thought they'd be better off killing us. Guess the next time they're opening that door will be to dispose of the bodies."

He joined Rusty at the door, going over the ground they'd tried before. After all, they couldn't just sit down and die.

"Don' think they're gon' bother with any disposal," Rusty said after a moment. "Think they're gonna just leave us f-f'r the cops."

"You don't think they'd have to answer a few questions if they do that?" Danny asked. It was one thing arresting a couple of thieves. Arresting a couple of dead bodies, and the cops were gonna take a second look at the people who owned the place. Yes, money could buy a whole lot of blind eyes, but corpses made things messy.

"Nah." Rusty stopped what he was doing, shaking his head. "'s jus'...you know those bits at the back of the papers? The f-funny news. That's where we'll be. 'Two hapless b-burglars today came to a chilling end when they accidentally broke into a walk in freezer. P'lice say...say they were looking for cold hard cash.'"

Danny could imagine the sort of story. He'd read that sort of thing before, after all. He'd even laughed... "That's not 'xactly the way I wanted to be r'membered," he said softly, redoubling his efforts with the door, hauling at the hinges and his fingers were leaving bloody smears on the smooth surface and he couldn't even feel it.

"Me n-neither," Rusty agreed.

The cold wasn't the only thing numbing Danny's senses now.

Tess.

Tess finding out like that. Tess never seeing him again, having no one to turn to for answers, having this awful truth thrust on her, having everyone she knew pointing at her and whispering. Danny, dead, a thief and a murderer, words in the news, a reputation she couldn't escape, God, maybe suspicion falling, questions she couldn't answer, and he'd never be able to explain, never even be able to hold her and kiss her and try to make it all better.

Tess didn't deserve this. Tess didn't deserve any of this. He could lose her, and that was one thing, but what she could lose...

"I should leave her," he told Rusty dully.

Rusty looked at him.

"'f we get out've here," he clarified. "'s f-for her own good."

"L-leaving p-people f'r their own g-good is never good," Rusty said softly.

"An' we're not g-going to die," Danny added determinedly. "We're going to get out of here, okay Rus'?" They were going to get out of here and he was going to get them out of all this mess, and then he was going to explain to Tess that he couldn't be with her.

He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't want to think anymore. He strode off to check the wall panels and search for grilles or vents or _any_thing.

They were going to get out of here.

It wasn't time to lay down and die.

* * *

Saul was in a good mood as he walked back into the motel. For the first time since the Northridge thing had gone bad he was allowing himself to feel reasonably optimistic. The cops _were _looking for someone else. If Rusty and Danny had come up with any kind of legit evidence against Teddy, well, it wouldn't take too much to put together some more _convincing _evidence. Then; Monty Fall got an anonymous tip off. Not exactly unusual for someone to call the papers when they should be calling the cops. Detective Stevens conducts a raid, Teddy goes to jail, they all vanish off the face of the earth and no one cares who Teddy claims to have set up. Problem solved.

He knocked on Rusty and Danny's door, anxious to know how they'd got on, eager to get out of this godforsaken town as fast as possible.

There was no answer.

Troubled, he knocked again, and when there was still no response, he opened the door.

They weren't there.

Mmm. His brow creased. It seemed unlikely that they'd have taken this long to get the tapes. The plan had been to get in and out as fast as possible. Still, there was always the possibility for delay. He wouldn't go as far as to say he was _worried..._just surprised.

Of course, maybe they were back. Maybe they'd got back and gone out for some other reason. Worth checking with Kieran and Eddie.

He moved along to the next room and knocked. A second later the door was opened by Eddie.

"Oh, it's you," Eddie said ungraciously.

Another time and Saul might have wondered at the greeting. But he was already peering inside the room, and Kieran was sitting in front of the TV watching basketball but there was no sign of Rusty or Danny.

"Have you seen Danny and Rusty?" he asked urgently.

"Nah," Eddie said, shaking his head. "Haven't seen them, they didn't tell us anything, we don't know _anything._ Okay?"

Saul frowned and looked at him sharply.

"Look, I'm getting pretty sick of being kept out of the loop like this," Eddie said angrily. "Kieran might not give a damn, but I want to know if you're all planning on leaving us high and dry."

He hid the sigh and stepped inside the room quickly. This wasn't a conversation that should be conducted publicly. Hell, this wasn't a conversation that should need to be conducted at _all. _"That is not going to happen, Eddie," he said firmly. "We are working to fix this mess, I promise, but it isn't easy. Sometimes things move too fast to keep everyone up to speed, okay?"

And that was at least a little bit true. Of course the deeper truth was that someone had sold them out, had told the bad guys exactly what they were planning, and it might have been Max and it might have been Kenny but it might _not _have been. And Saul knew who he trusted most in the world and it wasn't Eddie and it wasn't Kieran.

Eddie didn't look like that was okay. Eddie looked deeply unhappy and Saul couldn't exactly blame him. The outside wasn't a good place to be. Not when the stakes were so high. And Eddie was paranoid at the best of times.

"Look," he said, softening his voice a little. "Do you honestly think Danny and Rusty would sell you out like that? Do you think they'd save their skins and leave you behind?"

"Not a chance," Kieran called, not looking from his game. "I told him he's being a moron."

Eddie visibly bristled and Saul doubted that this piece of wisdom had helped much.

"Well, it was Danny who got us into this in the first place," Eddie snapped. "I haven't forgotten that, even if everyone else has."

"We were all set up," Saul answered, his voice calm and conciliatory and he carefully kept eye contact until Eddie sighed and nodded grudgingly.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. But if they haven't hightailed it out of here, where are they?"

That was a very good question. But Saul had only just managed to get Eddie even a little bit on side. Now really wasn't the time to be admitting his worry.

Besides. They weren't actually missing yet. He still had some time before he really had to start worrying. He'd drink a couple of beers with Eddie and Kieran. Make sure feathers stayed unruffled.

And Danny and Rusty would come walking through that door before he knew it.

* * *

Rusty wasn't sure he could remember a time when he hadn't been cold. At least, he wasn't sure he could remember what warm felt like. Didn't stop him trying. He kept thinking of warm hotel rooms, hot baths, blankets, lying on the beach, the sun on his face, Danny smiling at him, but the cold permeated all his daydreams and then he was back here, in the freezer, watching Danny kick and pound at the walls, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

So hard to think.

So hard to keep his eyes open.

All he wanted to do was sleep.

He was barely aware when Danny grabbed his shirt front, twisting the material, hauling him back to his feet. Barely aware of Danny shouting at him and none of the words really penetrated. Barely aware of lips crushing against his, insistent and as close to warm as was currently imaginable.

And then he felt the pain as Danny seized his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. He felt the pain and he felt the shock and the betrayal, and he felt the blood flow and his eyes flew open.

There was guilt and terror and fury in Danny's eyes. "D-don't fall 'sleep."

He stared for a moment and nodded stupidly.

"I-I th-think we can...think we can g-g-get this p-panel off," Danny told him breathlessly, gesturing briefly to a random point on the wall behind them, like even the effort of raising his hand and pointing was exhausting.

Looked just like every other panel.

And Danny was lying. They both knew this was no way out.

There was no way out.

"Help me, Rus'," Danny whispered.

He couldn't say no. He could never say no.

But putting one foot in front of the other was a herculean task, and his every movement was sluggish and uncoordinated and agonising, and he could hardly remember from second to second what he was supposed to be doing.

He reached out and touched Danny's hand, a mute appeal, a promise that neither of them could feel.

There was no way out of here.

* * *

Half an hour and a single beer. That was what Saul managed before the worry got too much to bear.

He called Detective Stevens first of all, offering some story about an unreliable tip that there'd been some new development tonight. Stevens seemed happy to assure him he'd heard nothing, and it wasn't the 'no comment' of a cop with something to hide either.

"Ah, well, nothing to worry about then," he said urbanely as he hung up. "Sorry for disturbing you, David."

At least that suggested that Danny and Rusty hadn't got arrested. Impossible that a connection to Northridge wouldn't have been made almost immediately.

But then, that didn't answer the far more important question of where they _were._

"I'm going to go check Rush's place," he told Kieran and Eddie as he pulled his Monty Fall disguise back on, and his concern was at least a little bit catching. "Maybe they just got held up."

"I'll come too," Kieran volunteered. "Eddie can stay here in case they get back. Right?"

"Sure," Eddie nodded, licking his lips nervously. "They'll...they'll be fine though, you know Saul. They can look after themselves."

Saul only nodded.

* * *

The party at Rush's was evidently still in full swing and Saul was pretty certain that was a good sign. Surely, if Rusty and Danny had been caught, things would have ground to a halt? Still, he was going to have to get in there to be sure.

"Stay in the car," he told Kieran as the blond started to follow him. "If I'm not back in half an hour, go back to the motel, get Eddie, and both of you get out of town as fast as possible, okay?"

Kieran nodded looking uncharacteristically serious. "Be careful, Saul."

"Of course," Saul agreed.

Fortunately, at this time of night, all the guests had already arrived so the guy on the door wasn't paying much attention at all. Easy enough to wait until he was distracted by a drunk demanding the valet go get his Lamborghini, and duck behind him and sneak inside.

From there, it was just a question of looking for Rush and acquiring a large brandy for verisimilitude.

Finding Rush didn't take long either. He was holding forth in a small room just off the main ballroom, one arm slung over the shoulders of each of the giggling girls at his side. Neither of the girls looked old enough to be drinking and Saul felt a wave of disgust for the man.

This was the man who had set them up.

This was the man who had ordered Kenny's death.

Saul smiled like he'd never been so pleased to see anyone in his life. "Teddy!" he cried drunkenly, weaving his way across the floor. "Not seen you in an age. How've you been?"

Rush's brow creased as he tried to figure out exactly where he knew Saul from. "Fine," he said at last shortly.

"Tha's good," Saul beamed. "I was sorry to hear about your uncle. A terrible loss. Terrrible." He drew the word out as long as possible and Teddy was looking disgusted and dismissive and that was good. The point here was to be as unthreatening as possible.

"Yes, well," Teddy said with a shrug. "I'm sure we all miss my uncle very much."

And there was an insincere line if Saul had ever heard one. Clearly no love lost. Would've been easy for Teddy shit to kill Northridge, probably.

"All these thieves nowadays, it's terrrrible," he said solemnly. "You just don't know what's going to happen next, do you? They could be anywhere. They could break into _this _house. _Tonight._"

And that was the point where he was watching Teddy's face. Watching for surprise or guilt or suspicion or _anything._ Any sign that Teddy knew that someone _had _broken into his house tonight.

There was nothing.

Not a hint of disquiet.

Either Teddy was a great actor, or Danny and Rusty hadn't been caught.

"I should go," he told Teddy, his mind whirling. "I'll see you later."

"Please don't let me stop you," Teddy said, sounding bored, and Saul stumbled back out of the room and left the house as quick as he could.

Kieran looked up at him eagerly as he reached the car. "Well?"

"They're not there," Saul said.

"Well, that's good," Kieran said uncertainly. "Isn't that good?"

"Mmmm," Saul agreed. They hadn't been caught. And that was always good.

But where the hell were they?

"Maybe we just missed them," Kieran suggested. "Let's go back to the hotel. See if they're there."

That sounded like the only sensible idea.

It did nothing to stop his growing fear.

* * *

Danny stared vacantly at the hand splayed against the panel. Looked dead. Alien. Fingers pale and torn and swollen, shivering ridiculously.

The panel hadn't moved. It was supposed to have moved, wasn't it? He was supposed to be...He drifted. Was a world just on the other side. Warmth and safety and...he couldn't remember.

He had to save Rusty. That was what mattered, that was all he had to remember. He had to save Rusty because they couldn't just sit down and die.

(_It was so cold...)_

He ripped his hand away from the panel with an effort, blinking stupidly at the smear of bloodied skin left behind.

Not important.

He beat his hands against the wall, trying to break through by force of fading will.

(_He was so tired...)_

It didn't move.

They were going to get out of here. They were going to... They were... They...

There was a noise from behind him. He suddenly realised that he'd been hearing it for a while now.

His arm pressed against the wall for support, he turned his head. And stared.

Rusty was sitting in the middle of the floor, his jacket lying discarded beside him. He was pulling awkwardly at his shirt - most of the buttons had already been torn off, and even as Danny watched, the last two ripped apart.

"Wh-wh-what..._doing?_" Danny managed to ask.

A moment and Rusty looked up at him and it was a few more seconds before recognition dawned in his glazed eyes. "'m too hot," he complained, pulling vaguely at his shirt again.

Danny shook his head as hard as he could. "N-no!" he insisted. He lurched towards Rusty and managed a couple of steps before his legs gave way. Somehow, he crawled the rest of the way and his hand twisted in the jacket and clumsily he draped it over Rusty's shoulders. "T-trust m-me," he begged.

Rusty blinked up at him and the confusion in his eyes was drowning out everything else.

Danny had to stand up again.

Had to keep fighting.

Had to find them a way out of here because they weren't supposed to sit down and wait to die.

It was so cold and he was so tired and his hands were still pressed against Rusty's shoulders.

He remembered Rusty's hand on his arm earlier. A silent question. A request he'd ignored.

He pulled Rusty tight against him and Rusty was cold in his arms, but after a second he almost felt the grip around his waist.

"D'nny," Rusty whispered, and he sounded content.

Danny didn't want to be alone.

His cheek was pressed against Rusty's, his mouth by Rusty's ear and he wasn't sure if he spoke out loud or not. Not that it mattered. "All those years ago...when I was running from Freddy...when you saved me. I never said thank you."

It was cold and he was tired and there was no way out of here.

At least Rusty wasn't shivering anymore. That was good.

He held Rusty as tight as possible and waited. They were closer together than should have been possible.


	8. Rescue

**A/N: For InSilva, as she asked for it. Despite the fact that probably no one else even _remembers _it. Yes, not even me. :) **

**A/N2: And because no one else remembers it...previously, on Murphy's Other Law...Danny, Rusty, Saul and two friends of theirs named Kieran and Eddie were hired to break into Alexander Cabot Northridge's house. Unfortunately, they discovered Northridge had been murdered, leaving them the main suspects and subjects of a police man hunt. They discovered that the man who hired them was called Teddy Rush, and their contacts who set them up with the job had recently died in mysterious circumstances. While breaking into Rush's house to track down possible taped conversations regarding the job, Danny and Rusty were caught and left to die in a walk in freezer. Now read on...**

* * *

The light came long after all thoughts had left Danny's head and he'd surrendered to the cold.

It was bright and dazzling and painful and Danny was pretty sure they were meant to be staying _away _from the light. He tried to move but his legs wouldn't cooperate and Rusty was dead-weight in his arms.

"Fuck," a voice said perfunctorily.

Huh. He wouldn't have thought God swore.

He stared stupidly as the figure silhouetted in a halo of white light came closer, unable to get to grips with what was going on, unable to even fully recognise where they were or what had happened.

He started to come back to himself as Rusty was dragged out of his arms. No! He had to hold onto Rusty. It was important that he kept Rusty close and he wasn't even exactly sure why.

He struggled fiercely, but Rusty was easily pulled from his grasp and hauled away into the light.

No! No, this wasn't right. Gritting his teeth against the pain and the cold, he let himself fall forwards and tried pull himself along on his hands and knees towards the light, because he had to follow Rusty, no matter what he had to follow Rusty.

"Fuck," the voice said again, and seconds later Danny felt strong hands under his arms, roughly hauling him into the light.

The warm air hit him with an almost physical force, and he lay slumped on the floor, gasping for breath. Gradually memory returned. The break in, being caught, the freezer, sitting with Rusty, waiting to die... He swallowed, pushing all thoughts of acceptance out of his head.

There was a man standing over him. Danny stared up stupidly. He vaguely recognised him, but he couldn't put a name to the face. The man's lips were moving but he couldn't follow a word.

Scowling, the man leaned forwards and slapped Danny in the face. Hard. "You with me?" he demanded urgently. "We don't have much time. We have to get you out of here right now. I need you to help me with your friend."

Rusty. Forgetting everything else, Danny crawled across the floor to where Rusty was lying, pale and unmoving, his eyes closed. Frantically, Danny tried finding a pulse, but his fingers were too numb and he couldn't tell. With a harsh sob, he pressed his hand against Rusty's face, shook Rusty's shoulder, silently begging Rusty to open his eyes and look at him, not to leave him.

"He's alive," the man said, watching Danny thoughtfully. "But he won't be for much longer if we don't move. Teddy's men could be back at any moment."

Danny nodded, his hand clutching Rusty's tightly. He looked up at their rescuer. "Th-thank you," he said his teeth chattering. There were a hundred questions he should be asking right now, he knew that, but he still couldn't concentrate and Rusty wasn't moving.

The man nodded. "You got someone waiting for you outside?" he asked abruptly. "A...getaway driver or whatever?"

"No," Danny said, shaking his head automatically, and ironically now that he was a little warmer he could feel the crippling cold. "There's jus' two of us," he managed to add with difficulty, and no matter what, that was always the right answer.

"Right," the man said. "Well, we need to get you out of here anyway. Can you walk?"

Truthfully, he wasn't even sure he could _stand._ But he nodded anyway and leaning heavily on the wall, managed to drag himself to his feet. Was more a question of willpower than strength, and he was already out of breath.

But they _had _to get out of here, the man was right about that. Didn't seem likely Welsh was going to come check on them, but that didn't mean no one would happen by. Gritting his teeth, he started to reach down to pick Rusty up, only to find the man already crouched beside him, pulling his own jacket off and wrapping it around Rusty's chest surprisingly gently. "There you go," the man murmured and Danny tensed. He didn't know this man. He didn't know anything about this man and as he watched, the man picked Rusty up easily, cradling him snugly against his chest.

The sight set Danny's teeth on edge. "I can carry him..." he started, moving forwards.

The man looked amused. "No. I really don't think you can," he said firmly. "Come on. The parking lot is this way." He walked off quickly, Rusty still unconscious in his arms. Danny hurried after him, struggling to keep up.

He wasn't denying that the man had saved him. And everything he'd done suggested kindness. But they had broken in. Motivations weren't exactly clear here. Hell, he wasn't even sure if the man knew who they were. And still he didn't exactly have a choice but to trust their lives to him.

Just as they'd walked long enough for his tortured lungs to start screaming they reached the car park, and without hesitating the man walked up to a Mercedes, opened the door and laid Rusty on the back seat.

"I can drive you down the street, but after that you're on your own," he said, turning to Danny. "I need to get back before I'm missed."

Danny looked at Rusty. "N-need to get him t-to h'spital," he pointed out tersely.

The man snorted. "Every cop in the city looking for you and you want to check into the hospital? Really?"

Rusty needed help. Why should he care whether or not he got arrested if Rusty _died. _

With a sigh, the man shrugged. "It's your funeral. But why don't you try to warm him up yourself first. Get in the car, anyway."

Everything had been taken out of his hands. But he didn't feel like he had any choice. He slid into the back seat beside Rusty, and dragged Rusty close to him, rubbing his chest and arms and back, trying to warm him up.

"Why're you helping us," he asked as the man sped off.

In the rear view mirror, he could see the man's jaw tighten.

"We have a common enemy," he said shortly. "I want to get to whoever killed Alexander and set you up. Probably even more than you do."

Like a bolt from the blue, Danny suddenly remembered exactly where he'd seen the man before. In the Corinthian bar the other day. Kent Lamming. Alexander Cabot Northridge's best friend. "'m sorry," he said sincerely.

Kent glanced at him in the mirror, shock in his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah." He sighed and for a while there was silence.

Rusty stirred in Danny's arms, moaning softly and opening his eyes for a second, and it didn't seem like he really saw or recognised Danny, but it was _something_ and Danny held him all the tighter.

"Here," Kent said shortly, pulling the car up outside a run down looking motel, its hourly rate proudly lit up in neon. "This is the best I can do. Get your friend warmed up, get out of here and call me when you know you're not being followed." He passed a business card back to Danny. "I think we got a lot to talk about."

Probably they did, Danny thought, as they got out of the car and Kent spend off immediately. But that was a later problem. Right now, Rusty was all that mattered.

* * *

Saul could feel the anxiety rolling in the pit of his stomach as he strode back into the hotel, Kieran hurrying to catch up with him.

Again and again, he tried to convince himself that Rusty and Danny would be waiting back in the room, but even so, he wasn't surprised to walk in and see only Eddie there.

"Did you find them?" Eddie asked anxiously.

"No," Saul admitted heavily. "I managed to speak to Rush...as far as I could tell, they haven't been caught."

"Which is _good,_" Kieran chimed in. "Maybe they just caught sight of the cops and had to lie low for a while."

Maybe. It was possible. In fact, it was the most likely explanation...but all the other possible explanations were so much worse that he couldn't leave it. What was he supposed to do? Go put his feet up, watch TV and just hope that the boys found their way home?

But if the cops didn't have them, and the bad guy didn't have them...Saul was running out of ideas. Tempting as it was to just run out and start scouring the streets, that wouldn't really get him any further forwards.

God. It seemed like every step of this job was cursed.

"Maybe they got fed up of this colossal fuck up and skipped town," Eddie suggested darkly.

"If you can't be helpful be quiet," Saul snapped, and winced immediately as Eddie's face grew stormy. Yeah. He shouldn't lose his temper. He knew Eddie didn't exactly mean it, he just didn't like things going wrong. But right now he was too worried to try and keep Eddie sweet.

"Hey, let's all calm down, yeah?" Kieran said, looking alarmed. "I'm sure the guys will be back any minute."

Saul didn't share his optimism.

"Sorry," Eddie muttered sullenly. "I just want out of here, that's all."

The apology was genuine enough. And it wasn't as if Saul didn't understand the fear and frustration. But still, he wondered how much longer Eddie would be content to follow their lead. If Eddie chose to strike out on his own, the odds were good that he'd get caught. And then things would get really complicated. But for now..."I apologise," he said formally. He sighed. "I'm going to go make some calls."

The only contact he really had in this city had been the late Max Keene, but he knew people all over the country. Maybe...hopefully...someone would be able to give him some information.

* * *

Danny tore his eyes away from the speeding car and turned to look at the motel. It was dilapidated to the point of falling down...but there'd be blankets. Hot water, probably. He should be able to get them warmed up there.

He glanced down at Rusty slumped against him. His eyes were closed again, but he was at least partly standing on his own. And when Danny squeezed his shoulder he reacted, snuggling closer into Danny's chest.

Taking a deep breath he made up his mind. He could still take Rusty to the hospital if he had to, but right now they'd try going it alone.

His arm tight around Rusty's chest, taking most of his weight, they stumbled up to the entrance. The guy behind the desk didn't even look up from his magazine. "Yeah."

"Room," Danny managed to say, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet, and with frozen fingers, he just about managed to draw out a handful of bills that he didn't even bother to count. "There. And there'll be more l-later 'f you haven' seen us."

The guy still didn't look up. Danny had to figure there was no chance he'd be able to respond to a description _anyway._ "Sure," he said uninterestedly. "You're in eighteen." He reached behind him and picked up a key and dropped it on the desk.

On the third try, Danny managed to make his fingers close around them clumsily.

They staggered out into the courtyard and Danny stared around vaguely, looking for the right door. Rusty moaned and stirred against him, taking a step forwards and almost slipping out of his grasp. Danny gripped him tighter.

"Let that boy go," an angry voice demanded.

Blinking, Danny looked over to see a woman standing a couple of feet away. She was wearing too much make-up and too few clothes, and she was staring at him like he was the root of all evil.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," she continued.

Danny looked down at Rusty, considering the drowsy and vacant look in his eyes, the torn shirt revealing Rusty's bare chest, and the bloody swollen lip and black eye.

"What have you done to that poor boy?" she demanded.

"He's twenty seven," Danny said stupidly, and right now it was all he could think of to say. He shook his head. "There was a fight...I'm just trying to get him taken care of."

She snorted. "A likely story. I know your type."

"I'm not my type," he protested. "I need to go."

He managed to walk past her, and miracle of miracles, practically walked into room eighteen. Thing was, now they didn't only have to worry about people looking in for them for the break in, or Northridge's murder. She might just call the cops and accuse him of something unspeakable.

He groaned. Seemed impossible that job could get any worse.

There was a thermostat just inside the door and he turned it up high and dragged Rusty through into the bathroom. It was absolutely filthy, the shower smeared with grim and mould and a dozen other things, he didn't even want to try and identify, but that didn't matter right now. He knocked the water on and sprang back as it spluttered down onto him. That felt _boiling._ And that probably meant he was even colder than he'd thought.

Grimacing, he turned the temperature down for the moment, and pushed Rusty into the stall, crawling in after him.

Skin to skin contact. That was the thing, right? Clumsily he stripped them both and pulled Rusty close to him, wrapping his arms and legs around Rusty and resuming rubbing his back and chest, desperately trying to warm both of them up.

Seemed an age before Rusty tilted his head back and blinked up at him groggily. "D'nny?" he mumbled. "We dead?"

Danny's laugh was tinged with hysteria and relief. "We're wet and we're naked. I'm curious as to exactly what kind of afterlife you're imagining here."

Rusty grinned weakly at him and his head dropped forwards again.

Danny grabbed his chin firmly and wrenched his head up. "Oh no you don't. You need to stay awake, Rus''. Talk to me."

"Wha' 'bout?" Rusty yawned.

"Anything," Danny said, shrugging. But Rusty didn't answer and Danny's mind raced. "Alright. That jewellers on Long Island. Where I bought Tess that necklace last month."

"Buchanans," Rusty supplied foggily.

"Exactly," Danny nodded. "How would you hit it? Quickly."

He listened as Rusty stumbled through a plan, broken sentences and half-finished thoughts, and when Rusty finished he suggested another target and another, coming up with increasingly unlikely places.

"Wriggle your toes and fingers while you talk," he ordered when Rusty paused for breath, and he started doing the same.

Rusty screwed his face off. "H-hurts," he complained.

Yeah. Yeah, it really did. But that was probably a good sign. Blood still flowing.

The water was starting to feel cold and he reached above his head and turned the temperature back up. "Keep talking," he told Rusty quietly.

They sat in the shower until Danny had stopped shivering and Rusty was able to form coherent sentences. Then they stood up and got dried with the single grotty towel and stumbled through to the bedroom, lying entwined together, wrapped in the stained blanket, sharing as much body heat as possible.

It would be far too easy to fall asleep like this. And Danny didn't think they were in any danger from hypothermia right now, but there was still Rush and the cops to worry about.

"Danny, what happened?" Rusty asked sleepily. "Last think I 'member was the freezer."

Quickly, he explained about the rescue and Kent Lamming, and Rusty frowned. "Huh. You think he was for real?"

Danny shrugged. "Maybe. If he already suspected Rush...he might think we know something that could help."

Rusty nodded. "Or he could be hoping we can - "

" - lead him back to the others," Danny finished with a grimace. "Yeah."

"We can't take any chances," Rusty said softly.

No. They really couldn't. He sighed. "Okay. You - "

" - think so," Rusty agreed, and as Danny watched, he carefully got out of bed and stretched stiffly. Honestly, he looked like a good breeze would knock him over.

Rusty looked through the bathroom door and sighed. "You had to turn the shower on _before _we got undressed? Those clothes are soaking."

"Sorry," Danny said unapologetically. "Had other things on my mind." Like keeping you alive, he didn't say, and Rusty shot his a look that said _sorry _and _thank you _and Danny dismissed it with a roll of his eyes.

"Okay, " Danny said as he wrung out his shirt and gingerly pulled it on. "So we need to get back to the car - "

" - pick up the tapes," Rusty contributed.

Danny nodded. " - and find out if we've been followed and get back to Saul and the others ."

"Before Saul goes completely out of his mind," Rusty added.

Danny glanced at his watch. "Probably a few hours too late for that."

Rusty sighed. "Can't phone him from here," he said glumly.

No. At least one person knew they were here, and the last thing they wanted was someone pulling the phone record. And their cell phones were safely back in the car.

"Come on," he said tiredly, looking towards the door. "Let's get on with it."

* * *

Saul had struck out a couple of dozen times and by now he'd called just about everyone he knew, waking people up and asking questions they couldn't answer.

No one knew anything. He was no further forwards and he was growing desperate.

It was almost four in the morning when he heard a sound in the corridor outside, and heart in mouth, he stepped out into the hall.

Rusty and Danny were standing there, and his absolute relief at seeing them was tempered by the sight of them. They were both pale and bruised and damp, and when they saw him, Rusty just smiled wearily.

"Hey, Saul," Danny said tiredly. "Things got complicated."

He stared. "Tell me about it."


End file.
